The Manhattan Project (1)
During the height of the war, the five-member hero party was busier than anyone else on the continent. It was because the Imperial Council and the imperial family wanted more from them than just being war heroes.
Walter H. Hellhound and Rose Caprice were official members of the Imperial Council. It wasn't strange for those two to hold seats in the council, reserved exclusively for nobles of baronial rank or higher, elected by noble suffrage. Rose Caprice was the emperor's eldest daughter, nobility personified, and while Walter H. Hellhound couldn't exactly claim noble birth, he was a direct descendant of a hero from centuries past—and the hero of the present day.
Margaret had been offered a council seat as part of the alliance, in recognition of her noble elven bloodline, but she declined to run for election, letting the opportunity slip away. She probably just didn't care for the idea of an aristocratic council in the first place. Or perhaps, as princess of the Eramenia Kingdom, she avoided it to prevent any impression that Eramenia was a vassal state of the Audrich Empire.
Instead, Margaret threw herself into reopening diplomatic ties between humans and elves—long estranged for centuries—and improving mutual perceptions. She ran herself ragged with the effort. As a speaker, she was quite popular, and it was largely thanks to her that the elven armies marching to fight the Demon King received not just imperial supplies, but voluntary aid from the empire's common folk.
Bernard, hired by Walter solely for demon subjugation, stayed out of social activities. But when needed, he fulfilled his role as "Walter's Hammer" to great effect—ferreting out traitors swayed by the Demon King, for instance.
And what of Jeong-jae? The Earthling Park Jeong-jae, unfamiliar with this world, rushed through university courses by affinity and thrown straight into war—what did he do in his downtime from battles? He was appointed special professor at the Imperial Magic University, tasked with teaching students directly.
His lectures were irregular due to his hero party duties, and his grasp of foundational magic theory wasn't rock-solid, so the content often deviated from orthodoxy. Still, whenever he taught at the university, students flocked to hang on his every word.
Jeong-jae knew full well it wasn't because his lectures were top-notch or easy to follow. How? He could just tell by looking.
"So, don't think what I draw on the board is the whole story. Mana circuits are fluid—sometimes even hyperdimensional. What's on a scroll is just a simplified symbol. Ultimately, completing the scroll comes down to the caster's subjective interpretation, and on that front... I basically can't teach you anything."
Jeong-jae paused from scribbling on the green chalkboard with chalk and turned to gauge the students' reactions. Only the top students from the senior year's elite classes got to audit his lessons. Most came not because they loved his teaching, but because attending and grasping the content was a badge of excellence.
"Professor, what if you misinterpret a scroll? Couldn't the magic fail to activate, or worse, produce totally unintended effects?"
One student raised a hand. Jeong-jae nodded awkwardly and snapped his fingers.
"Exactly. You can't just wildly misread it. For example, if you mistake a Karmic Fire magic circle for a blizzard one, the scroll's wasted—no activation. But as long as you can ultimately summon the Karmic Fire, the method can be a bit lenient. You all probably picture Karmic Fire as blasting fire pits, but if you can produce hellfire by, say, calling down lightning from the sky..."
He trailed off mid-sentence. Damn, bad example, he thought. A Karmic Fire circle using lightning—it dragged up memories of that horrific recent battle, churning his stomach and shattering his focus. Most students were half-listening anyway, thinking What the hell is this guy on about? But he couldn't half-ass it.
No, he couldn't half-ass it. In this frantic wartime, Walter's thoughtful consideration for his mental health had let him retreat from the front lines to the school. Brooding over trauma alone, letting his gut twist—no one would fix that for him.
"Professor, so is there a manual defining where interpretation crosses from wrong to creative reinterpretation by the caster?"
Another student raised a hand. Jeong-jae turned to them.
"It depends on the scroll's essence. As long as you don't break its core mechanism, it'll activate in most cases. You all know that."
"But without knowing exactly where misinterpretation starts, couldn't you distort the creator's intent?"
"A scroll is a tool. Not literature or sheet music. Though maybe even those are the same. What matters is the user's perspective."
"But there are academic counterarguments and differing views on that..."
"You all know I only studied magic for three months. Three months. You students know the textbooks better than I do—you've studied this for at least seven years, right?"
The room fell silent at his words.
"Does the scroll creator's view matter more, or the user's? Academically, what's more stable? I don't know. I was dumped into a world at war, crammed with education to 'weaponize' me as fast as possible, and thrown onto the battlefield after three months. You get what I'm saying?"
In combat, if it killed the enemy, he didn't nitpick scrolls or circles academically. That was his way—forced by isekai circumstances.
Jeong-jae glanced past the students at the massive clock on the back wall of the lecture hall. Time was nearly up. No point dragging it out, so he wrapped up succinctly, bowed, and slipped out the door.
Most students didn't chase after him or show interest as he left.
Tromping down the building corridor, he was hailed by a girl's voice.
"Professor!"
He turned at the familiar tone. Snow-white hair—sparkling silver, really—framed brilliant blue eyes. Her crisp uniform suited her perfectly. Jenis Hacker, only daughter of the renowned Hacker Count.
"Oh, Jenis. Got a question?"
He didn't bother with honorifics just because she was a count's daughter. Early on, he'd fumbled how to address noble kids, but once he clocked that hero party members outranked most nobles informally, he dropped formalities with students off-hours.
"Not exactly a question... well, yes, a question. Yeah."
Jenis fidgeted, twisting her hair—anxiously, unlike her. The fine, silky strands slipped free no matter how she wound them, gleaming silver rather than plain white.
"Ask away. Fire."
Jeong-jae kept his tone as kind as possible—not because she was stunning or blue-blooded, but because she was one of the university's top students, always acing his assignments. He didn't fully grasp a teacher's mindset yet, but even he couldn't help liking a star pupil.
"Must be tough, teaching those kids."
As Jeong-jae blinked, searching for words, Jenis waved her hands frantically.
"No, I don't mean they're super weird or anything! Just... they don't even try to take your words seriously. You're just... experienced, right?"
"Different ways of receiving info, Jenis," Jeong-jae said fairly. "To most students, magic's an academic pursuit—or a miracle. To me, it's a survival tool. I just wanted to share my perspective from experiences only I could have."
"They're all seniors anyway. What'll they do after graduation?"
"Yeah. That's the truth."
Mages were valuable assets. Graduates of the Imperial Magic University with top marks? Priceless beyond measure. But the Magic Tower couldn't coddle them in the rear—the reality of war. Officially, neither the hero nor the council could interfere, but pressure came, and they had to yield forces.
Thoughts that these graduates might hit the front lines right after didn't stay hypothetical.
"Professor..."
"Yeah?"
"You'll be staying at the school for a while, right? I heard the enemy's offensive has slowed..."
The slowdown was real. But it didn't mean the war had stabilized. In times like these, was it okay to step away from the party 'for a while' and hole up here?
"Hard to say. War doesn't let you look away for a second. Can't assume."
"I see... Um, then, Professor. When you're not teaching, what do you do at school? Just curious if you have free time... N-not that I'm thinking anything weird!"
Jenis blushed, rambling. Jeong-jae turned away, shadow crossing his face.
"Research. Working on a spell urgently. That's how I pass the time."
"Right... Can't interrupt that, huh?"
She asked cautiously. He shook his head lightly.
"If you're curious and come ask, that's not interrupting. Drop by anytime. Squeezing in short breaks is fine."
Jenis nodded, a flicker of disappointment. Whatever she wanted, short breaks weren't it.
"Anything else?"
Research half-forgotten from their chat resurfaced; he prompted her.
She rolled her eyes a bit, then nodded.
"Yeah, last thing... My father wants you to visit sometime. Specifically, dinner next Monday evening."
"The Hacker Count?"
She nodded. Jeong-jae mirrored her, then clapped.
"Sounds good. No issue. Can't snub an invite from the Hacker Count."
With that, their talk ended. Heading back to his private lab, Jeong-jae pondered, steeling his resolve for the path ahead.
This is the only way. This method will work.
Tucked deep in his robes was the scroll-in-progress, tentatively named the Manhattan Project.