Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Author-Forced Plot Convenience
Rain poured steadily outside the window.
Normally, Erica would’ve been out at the construction site hauling heavy loads and burning off her endless energy, but thanks to the rain, she suddenly had an unplanned day off—and now she was rolling around on the floor like she might die from boredom.
“Nasussss… food… or… play with meee…”
“Hey, you see this thick cast wrapped around my leg? What kind of person asks a patient to play with them?”
“But it’s raining so I can’t go outside, and it’s not time to eat yet! I’m bored!”
Erica clung to the side of my bed and poked my uninjured arm insistently.
“Ugh!”
She probably thought she was holding back, but taking even a “gentle” hit from a dragon still made me groan.
At that moment, Camellia, who had been quietly turning pages in the corner, spoke up.
“Erica, you shouldn’t bother someone who’s injured. Nasus needs rest right now.”
Her voice was soft and calm, like she was soothing a child.
At that, Erica puffed her cheeks and stuck out her lips.
“Tch… fine.”
She stepped away from the bed and shuffled toward Camellia, then glanced at the worn book she had been reading.
“But what have you been staring at this whole time?”
“Oh, this? It’s called ‘The Responsibilities and Costs of a Mage.’ Nasus bought it for me.”
I had picked it up from a secondhand stall because it had “mage” in the title, assuming it was some kind of magic manual.
Erica took one look at the dense text and immediately lost interest.
“Responsibilities…? Ugh, sounds boring already. What’s it about?”
“Well… just like the title says, it talks about the responsibility that comes with a mage’s immense power, and the price of misusing it.”
Camellia began explaining patiently, adjusting her tone to Erica’s level.
“For example, imagine a mage casts a spell to make it rain continuously over a territory suffering from famine.”
“Huh? That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Crops grow, people don’t starve.”
“That territory might survive for now, but that rain is actually drawn from surrounding regions. In the end, it causes an even worse drought somewhere else. It’s the price of distorting nature.”
“Ah…”
“There’s another example too. It says that a mage shouldn’t erase despair or grief with mental magic.”
“Why not? If painful memories just disappear, wouldn’t that be easier?”
At Erica’s simple question, Camellia quietly read a passage aloud.
“The human mind is not a broken machine. It cannot be fixed by simply replacing parts. Sorrow is something that must be entrusted to time—the slowest and most inefficient magic. To forcibly erase it is not healing, but destruction. What remains afterward is something that can no longer be called human.”
Her clear voice blended with the sound of rain.
“It also talks about whether a mage should pass down knowledge that could destroy humanity, or end it with themselves. The choices between humanity and efficiency… the burdens mages must carry.”
Listening to her, I couldn’t help but be impressed.
‘So it’s not a magic theory book—it’s basically philosophy and ethics for mages.’
No wonder it was so cheap.
Still… this is good.
The horrifying vision I’d seen before—Camellia standing in a sea of blood with empty eyes as a great mage—
If she ever reached that level, what she’d need most wouldn’t be technique, but something to keep her grounded.
‘Didn’t plan it, but… I picked the right book.’
As I admired my own accidental foresight, Erica clutched her head dramatically.
“Ugh! My head hurts! If you have power, just help good people and smash the bad ones! Why make it so complicated?!”
I leaned back against the bed and smirked.
“Erica, those complicated rules aren’t chains.”
“Huh? Then what are they?”
“They’re a safety line. Something you tie around yourself so you don’t turn into a monster drunk on power.”
Camellia looked at me quietly, then smiled faintly.
“Yes. These are… records written by people who wanted to remain human until the very end.”
I smiled to myself.
‘Perfect. Not just powerful, but someone who knows how to use that power properly. That’s a premium asset that only goes up in value.’
Please just grow up straight like this.
My rising star.
…
After hearing all that, a familiar question came to mind.
I gestured toward Erica, who was still restless.
“Hey. Want to answer a question?”
“I don’t like questions.”
“If you answer well, I’ll cook you whatever you want once I recover.”
The moment the word “food” dropped, her eyes lit up.
“Hmph! Do you even know who I am? I’m Erica Whitemane, daughter of a noble house! Ask anything!”
I chuckled inwardly and began.
“Imagine a carriage speeding down a steep hill. The brakes are broken, and the driver’s panicking. On the main road ahead, five drunk people are lying there asleep.”
Erica leaned forward, interested. Camellia also lowered her book.
“If it keeps going straight, those five will die. But if the driver turns into a narrow alley…”
I tilted my cast slightly.
“There’s only one person there. Turning means sacrificing one instead of five.”
I looked straight into Erica’s eyes.
“What would you do?”
She frowned, thinking hard.
“I’d go straight!”
“Even if five people die?”
“They shouldn’t be passed out drunk in the road! In my homeland, beasts would’ve eaten them already!”
“Fair enough. Camellia, what about you?”
She thought quietly before answering.
“Based on what I’ve learned… turning would be correct.”
“Oh?”
“One life is precious, but in such an extreme situation, saving more people is the ‘better’ choice.”
Her eyes dropped slightly.
“My father always said… you can’t always make the best choice. Sometimes, you must choose the lesser evil.”
“Hmm.”
I rubbed my chin.
“That’s a very realistic answer.”
She tilted her head.
“Then what’s the correct answer?”
“There isn’t one.”
“What?”
Erica shot up.
“You’re trying to cheat me out of food!”
I waved it off.
“It’s not about being right. It’s about the conflict—whether to save five or take responsibility for killing one. It’s a philosophical question.”
“I see…”
Camellia nodded slowly.
Erica, still dissatisfied, leaned in.
“Then what about you?”
“Me?”
I pictured the scene.
Then grinned.
“I’d save everyone.”
“…What?”
“I’d grip the reins until my hands bled and try to stop it. Eventually, people would come out and help. No one dies.”
Erica frowned.
“That’s nonsense!”
Camellia added carefully,
“That’s beautiful, but unrealistic. The carriage could flip and kill even more people.”
“Yeah.”
I clutched my chest dramatically.
“You got me.”
She flustered.
“Sorry…”
“No, you’re right. But…”
I leaned back.
“I still want to choose that.”
“…?”
“I don’t want to weigh lives. Even if people call it plot convenience or a deus ex machina—I’d rather chase that childish miracle where no one dies.”
They stayed silent.
“I want to be that idiot hero who refuses to give up on anyone.”
…
The mood got heavy.
Oops.
“Alright! Enough philosophy!”
I stretched my arm.
“I’m starving. Let’s eat.”