Is Becoming a Monster Necessarily a Bad Thing?

No one answered.

Leonora Wallenstein rested her chin on her hand and watched me. Interest had kindled in those red eyes.

As expected of the princess. The moment talk turned to dominion and power, she reacted at once.

Elise spoke.

"That is authority."

"What, then, is the difference between authority that inspires fear and a monster that inspires fear?"

"Legitimacy."

Fast.

I applauded her again inwardly.

This girl was sharp. She was not merely twisted; she had already erected a logic of her own inside herself.

A dangerous student. Yet philosophically, an excellent one.

"Good. Legitimacy."

I wrote on the board once more.

"Then I ask again. Who confers legitimacy?"

Elise closed her mouth.

I pointed at the board with one finger.

"Is a king legitimate simply because he is a king?"

"Is a priest legitimate simply because he speaks in the name of a god?"

"Is a knight legitimate simply because he has been granted the right to bear a sword?"

Chalk dust clung to my fingertips.

"Then if someone grants a monster the same right, does the monster become legitimate?"

The classroom grew quieter still.

A few students exchanged glances. Even the ones who had planned to sleep were lifting their heads now.

Good. Very good.

The class was alive.

Elise opened her mouth slowly.

"Then what does the professor consider a monster to be?"

The ball had been passed back to me.

I looked at Elise.

Her gaze was cold. Yet within it lay a subtle expectation.

A look that said, Answer, then. A look that said she would see whether I was the same as every other adult.

I knew that look.

There had been eyes like those in the graduate seminar rooms of my previous life. No one killed anyone, but they throttled one another with footnotes.

I set the chalk down.

"I do not define a monster by fear."

Elise's gaze shifted.

"Then by what?"

"A dispensation."

"…A dispensation?"

I nodded.

"A monster is not a being others fear."

I spoke slowly.

"A monster is a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠human who has issued themselves a free pass."

A small intake of breath sounded somewhere in the room.

I wrote a new sentence on the board.

"I have been wounded, therefore I am allowed to wound you."

The chalk moved again.

"I was abandoned, therefore I may abandon first."

Another line.

"I am strong, therefore I may tread upon the weak."

Leonora's eyes narrowed.

"I do it for God, therefore I may destroy myself."

Serena's fingers stiffened.

"I do it to save the world, therefore I may use people as means."

Karen's smile vanished completely.

I looked around at the students.

"In that moment a human ceases to judge their own actions. Because they have already granted themselves permission."

Elise said nothing.

Yet she had not retreated. Her eyes were sinking into something colder still.

"Then what is a victim supposed to do?"

Good.

She was coming in deeper.

"Must one treat the person who harmed them as human to the very end?"

Elise's voice lowered a fraction.

"Even when the other person first saw me as a tool, as a beast, as something to be used and thrown away?"

The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop.

That question had not come from a textbook. It had come from experience.

Elise Morgan.

The game's lore flickered through my mind.

In childhood, guardians who approached her for her magical talent. Adults who used her with kind faces, stole her research, and pinned every failure on her. And in the end they called her a dangerous child and cast her aside.

She did not trust humans.

And she had every reason not to.

I was silent a moment.

I must not offer careless comfort. In the face of a question like this, clumsy goodwill becomes an insult.

Especially with a face like mine.

I opened my mouth slowly.

"No."

Elise's pupils wavered.

"I have no intention of saying that a victim must forgive their abuser to the end."

A stir ran through the classroom.

A few students from the holy department looked startled. Serena also turned her eyes to me.

I continued.

"Forgiveness is not a duty. Forcing forgiveness upon the one who suffered is sometimes a second violence."

Elise's lips parted, just a little.

I looked straight at her.

"You may hate the one who harmed you."

A brief silence.

"You may cut off the one who used you."

Another pause.

"If necessary, you may even see that they are punished."

Every gaze in the room fixed on me.

"But the problem comes after that."

I walked slowly out in front of the lectern.

"There is a difference between a wounded person protecting themselves and a wounded person trying to punish the entire world on the strength of that wound."

Elise did not answer.

I did not look away from her.

"Just because the one who harmed you was human does not make every human your enemy."

"How can you know that?"

Elise asked at once.

"People betray whenever it suits them."

Her voice quickened slightly.

"Kind words are easy. 'Trust me' is easy. But people change their faces in front of profit. Kindness is calculation, and promises break according to circumstance."

The fingers resting on her desk slowly curled.

"In that case, is it not better simply never to trust from the beginning?"

Not a single breath could be heard in the classroom.

I muttered inwardly.

Skepticism.

This was not simple distrust of people.

Elise did not hate humans out of emotion. She had already constructed a philosophy.

Humans are uncertain. What is uncertain cannot be trusted. One does not lean on what cannot be trusted.

A very solid logic.

And solid logic does not break easily.

Try to smash it and it only hardens further.

So there was only one thing to do.

Step inside the logic.

I said,

"Good. People can betray at any time."

Elise looked at me.

"You admit it?"

"I admit it."

The classroom stirred again.

I raised a hand and quieted the murmur.

"Humans are incomplete. They waver before profit, flee before terror, and grow cowardly before desire."

I took one step toward Elise.

"But Miss Morgan."

"Yes."

"What about you?"

Elise's expression froze.

"…What about me?"

"Do you never betray?"

The air stopped.

I asked slowly.

"Are you always right?"

"Do you never waver?"

"Do you always judge others accurately?"

Elise's fingers stiffened.

"If not, then you too are one of the humans you refuse to trust."

My voice was low.

"So why is it that only your own distrust do you believe absolutely?"

Elise's eyes widened.

Somewhere deeper in the room someone swallowed a small gasp of admiration.

I quietly cheered inside.

Bullseye.

That landed clean.

People are practiced at doubting others, yet clumsy at doubting their own doubt. Especially those who have been wounded for a long time.

Doubt is a shield. Without a shield, one gets hit.

But hold a shield too long and the world itself disappears from view.

I wrote a new sentence on the board.

"You said you do not trust humans."

I said,

"But in truth you do believe."

Elise asked quietly,

"Believe what?"

"The proposition that humans will inevitably betray."

The tip of the chalk tapped the board.

"You believe that proposition."

Elise closed her mouth.

"Therefore this is not distrust. It is a kind of faith."

The holy department students flinched.

Serena Arcelia looked straight at me. She must have reacted to the word faith.

I continued.

"The reason belief is dangerous is not because it is religious."

I brushed chalk dust from my hands.

"It becomes dangerous the moment it refuses examination."

Elise glared at me.

"Then does the professor trust people?"

I paused a moment.

It was a difficult question.

In my previous life I had not trusted people easily. There had been publishers who pocketed my royalties, a senior who promised lecture opportunities and then cut contact. The answers the world had given me were mostly silence.

If asked whether people are good… honestly, I did not know.

But a philosopher must not run simply because he does not know.

I said,

"I do not trust people unconditionally."

Elise's eyes narrowed.

"Then you are no different from me."

"I am different."

I answered at once.

"I do not doubt people unconditionally either."

Elise stopped.

"Belief and doubt are both tools."

I wrote the two words side by side on the board.

"Belief opens doors. Doubt makes you check the blade."

The students were silent.

"With only belief, you are used. With only doubt, you meet no one."

I looked at Elise.

"So what matters is not clinging to either one like a creed."

The chalk dotted a period beneath the board.

"It is using them according to the situation."

Elise's lips tightened.

She wanted to rebut. But the path she had just helped build was not one she could easily leave.

Then a low laugh sounded from the window side.

"Interesting."

Leonora Wallenstein spoke, still resting her chin on her hand.

The red-haired princess's eyes were gleaming.

"By that logic, power is a tool as well."

I looked at her.

"Yes."

"Then can ruling by force also be right, depending on the situation?"

The classroom stirred once more.

By the door, Martin looked ready to cry. From the very first lecture the Great Witch candidate and the Demon King candidate were firing questions one after another.

From an administrative assistant's perspective, it was a catastrophe.

From mine, however—

What day is this?

It was far too good.

I bit the inside of my cheek lightly so the grin would not climb my face.

Second opponent in the philosophy battle. Philosophy of power. Political philosophy. The problem of legitimate rule and violence.

Insane. This classroom was a goldmine.

I turned my head toward Leonora.

"It is possible."

Students murmured again.

The corner of Leonora's mouth lifted.

"Oh?"

"But there is a condition."

"Speak."

The tone was not one used toward a professor.

I did not correct her. The moment I crushed her with authority, the discussion would die.

"For power to be legitimate, it must first apply to oneself as well."

Leonora's gaze shifted, just slightly.

I said,

"If it is right for the strong to rule the weak, then it is also right for someone stronger to appear and rule you."

Leonora fell quiet.

"The moment you are defeated, the seizure of your freedom, your life, and your dignity also becomes legitimate."

I looked straight at her.

"Can you accept that principle?"

The classroom froze.

Leonora Wallenstein was smiling. But the smile was different from a moment ago.

She tapped the desk slowly with her index finger.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

"That…"

She said lowly,

"Sounds like logic the weak invented to bind the strong."

"It may be."

I nodded.

"But if the strong wish to justify their power, they must at least apply the same logic to themselves."

I said,

"A principle that benefits only me is not philosophy."

The tip of the chalk pointed at the board.

"It is an excuse."

Leonora's tapping stopped.

Several students held their breath.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could tell.

This classroom was now fully awake.

No one was dozing. No one was staring out the window. No one was calling Introduction to Philosophy a waste of time.

They were watching.

How a question pierces a person. How logic twists a shield open. And what expression a person makes the moment the words they believed come back around to them.

I returned to the front of the board.

"That is all for today."

"What?"

Someone made a foolish sound.

Apparently they wanted more.

I wanted more too. Honestly, I wanted to debate all night right then and there.

But that would not do.

Dive too deep on the first lecture and students flee. Philosophy is like strong liquor. Pour the whole bottle down their throats at once and they vomit.

I closed the attendance book.

"I will assign homework until next time."

The students' faces all crumpled at once.

Of course. They love discussion and hate homework.

I wrote the assignment on the board.

The classroom grew quiet again.

"Length is free."

I looked at the students.

"Do not lie."

A few faces hardened.

"I do not need florid sentences. I do not need you to pretend to be good. I am not trying to confirm whether you are virtuous students."

I set the chalk down.

"I only want to know what free passes you issue yourselves."

The bell rang.

Dong.

Dong.

Dong.

Class was over.

The students did not rise at once. A strange silence lingered in the room.

Elise Morgan stared at the board without closing her book. Leonora Wallenstein sat with her arms crossed, thinking. Serena Arcelia bowed her head with her hands folded. Karen Astra was smiling again, but the smile was far thinner than before.

I gathered the attendance book.

"See you next time."

With those words I left the classroom.

The moment the door closed, Martin fell into step beside me.

"Professor."

"What is it?"

"Today's lecture…"

He could not choose his words.

His face could not decide whether it was praise or protest.

I asked quietly,

"Is there an administrative problem?"

"That… I do not know yet."

"Then it is fine."

"However."

Martin looked at me.

"For the first time, the students did not fall asleep."

I stopped walking.

And I smiled, very slightly.

This was the hallway, so it was all right. Not in front of young female students, and not in the classroom.

Still, my smiling face probably still looked villainous.

"That is enough."

Martin watched me a moment. His eyes were a little strange.

Perhaps he was seeing me again for the first time.

I looked out the corridor window.

Sunlight was settling over the academy's spires.

Future calamities. Monsters who were still students. Children who could still be turned back.

I brushed the chalk dust from my hands.

Philosophy in my previous life had not saved my livelihood. It had not saved my life either.

But here…

Perhaps.

"Professor."

Martin called me again.

"You seem a little different from before."

I looked at him.

"Do I?"

"Yes."

Martin spoke carefully.

"Compared to before… you are less of an ass."

"…"

Was that a compliment?

It had to be a compliment.

Probably.

I nodded.

"Thank you."

Martin looked startled.

Apparently he had not expected gratitude.

Watching that reaction, I resolved once more.

If I was going to survive with this face, I truly had to watch my conduct.

That was when it happened.

Footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor.

Click.

Click.

I turned my head. A black-haired girl was standing there.

Elise Morgan.

Even though the lecture was over, she seemed to have followed me instead of leaving.

Martin stepped back in flustered surprise.

I immediately straightened my posture.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠must not be alone with a female student. Especially not with this face.

I spoke deliberately within earshot of Martin.

"What is it, Miss Morgan?"

Elise regarded me quietly.

Her eyes were still cold. But they were a little different from before.

They were not filled with hostility alone.

"Professor."

"Speak."

Elise asked,

"Will the next class be like this as well?"

I thought for a moment.

Then answered,

"If possible."

Elise was silent briefly.

Then she said,

"Then I will attend."

It was a short remark.

But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the meaning of that single line was not small.

The future Great Witch. A girl who trusted no humans. Saying she would take the philosophy class again.

I clenched a fist inside my mind.

Got it.

The first crack.

Not salvation yet. Not rehabilitation yet. Not even a change to her future yet.

But a tiny fracture had appeared in a door frozen solid.

Outwardly I nodded with calm composure.

"You are welcome."

Elise studied my face a moment.

As if checking whether I truly meant the welcome.

I tried to wear the gentlest expression I could manage.

She took a step back.

"It would be better if you did not make that face."

"…"

"It makes you look even more suspicious."

With those words Elise turned away.

Click.

Click.

Her footsteps faded down the far end of the corridor.

I stood quietly where I was.

Martin stood quietly as well.

After a moment he said,

"Professor."

"What is it?"

"I am of the same opinion."

"…"

This body.

The difficulty was higher than expected.

But it was fine.

I was a rotten veteran with 5,700 hours in a lore-accurate dumpster-fire of a game. And a man obsessed with philosophy.

An unfavorable face?

A ruined reputation?

Future calamities?

Fine.

One by one, then.

With philosophy.