Chapter 327: Daily Life at The Society (2)
Chapter 327: Daily Life at The Society (2)
“Something is wrong.”
Seriously, something is seriously wrong.
The lodging issue from yesterday evening was settled after I threw a fit and protested, resulting in them giving me a better room.
But for some reason, the problems didn't stop there.
Today, after a long day, I went into the shower to wash up, only for the water to come out so scalding hot it could have practically hard-boiled a person.
Then, I woke up to find my bed soaking wet. For a moment, the shame made my long life flash before my eyes like a kaleidoscope, and I found myself deeply contemplating if I had developed some sort of medical condition.
As it turned out, it was just a simple leak in the ceiling. To top it off, the lightbulb in the ceiling fixture was burnt out.
Naturally, I threw another fit and demanded an explanation.
After unleashing a torrent of complaints at the lobby, I turned away, satisfied with the hotel manager’s profuse apologies—only to be immediately plowed over by a luggage cart.
Even if I had dialed down most of my senses except for pain because we weren't in a combat situation, I wasn't so dull that I wouldn't notice a cart approaching. Yet, for some reason, this was the second "traffic accident" I’d had inside the hotel.
For the record, even the hotel manager, who had been looking at me like I was some nightmare "black consumer" just moments ago, seemed to lose his words after seeing me get hit by the cart. He bowed his head and promised to handle everything properly.
Fine, up to that point, it was just the hotel’s problem.
After those twists and turns, I led my disciples—who were staring at me with their jaws dropped after witnessing my streak of bad luck—to the training hall located beneath the Geneva Branch of the Management Bureau.
* * *
“Alright, kids. You’ve had a good rest the past few days, right? Then today, let’s work up a vigorous swea—”
Boom!
Before I could even finish my sentence, a massive explosion swallowed my words.
Since I had opened the door just as I started speaking, flames and smoke erupted through the half-open gap.
As a result, I took the brunt of the unexpected blast.
“Senior?!”
“A terror attack? Is it a terror attack? Master! What’s happening?”
“Hmm. The vibes are really off today. Do you think I could just go back to my room and sleep, Ha-ram?”
As the explosion subsided, a variety of voices drifted from behind me.
Hearing them, I felt relieved that I had at least protected my disciples.
The moment I heard the blast, I had braced my feet against the ground to block the shockwave, flames, and debris from reaching them. There was no guarantee they would have been 100% safe otherwise.
Anyway.
What is it this time?
After confirming that I, now covered in soot and peppered with debris in a red-and-black gradient, wasn't seriously injured, I peered into the training hall beyond the door.
There, I saw a literal junkyard.
The training hall had been reduced to tatters, with only the door handle I was still holding remaining intact.
The attack must have been incredibly powerful; the shock absorbers meant to prevent destruction were shredded and spitting electrical sparks, and mechanical parts were raining down from the ceiling.
And in the center of this Scrap Metal yard stood a single mage.
“Hmm. This experiment was a failure. The firepower wasn't concentrated enough. If I don't increase the precision and compress the heat, I won't be able to reach that damn Magical Girl…”
It was Magic Weaver, wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that looked brand new without a single scratch. The guy was floating in mid-air, surrounded by a blue barrier.
…Oh, I see.
“A-bin.”
“Yes?”
“We did reserve this place, right?”
At my words, A-bin looked at the door I was still holding up by sheer force.
“Uh… seeing as it says Room 304, yes, we did.”
“And we have plenty of time left on the reservation?”
A-bin checked her watch.
“Yes, our reservation started thirty minutes ago.”
Then this isn't our fault.
Since it was a private reservation, there shouldn't have been anyone else here, and it wasn't a scheduling conflict.
In other words, this Magic Weaver bastard either walked into the wrong room or caused this catastrophe without even realizing his own time was up.
Which meant I wasn't even a tiny bit in the wrong.
I lifted the incredibly heavy door in my hand, pulled it back behind my shoulder, and—
“Die, you son of a bitch!”
I hurled it at Magic Weaver like a boomerang.
Matching the throw, I also kicked off the ground and leaped forward.
Whoosh!
The sound of the door slicing through the air.
Perhaps he noticed the sound.
Magic Weaver, who had been muttering to himself, finally looked toward me.
“Crimson★Hammer! Have you come to interfere with my experiments again?!”
Spouting such lines, he quickly traced a Magic Circle in the air.
A triple Magic Circle, with three overlapping rings.
It was the first time I’d seen this specific one, so I didn't know the effect, but it was obviously a barrier type.
Having made that judgment, I charged right along with the door.
“It’s useless! My barrier is an Advanced Physical Conversion Barrier, one that surpasses the Absolute Physical Nullification Barrier you destroyed in the past! No one can pierce this!”
Isn't "Advanced" lower than "Absolute"?
Can someone please teach this guy some proper vocabulary?
I had the thought, but there was no one here to give him a linguistics lesson mid-battle.
As the Magic Circle glowed, the "Advanced Physical whatever" unfolded.
It was a funnel-shaped barrier that narrowed as it got closer to Magic Weaver.
The metal door caught inside it began to spark, slowly grinding its way through the barrier.
What, that’s it?
Is it because it’s "Advanced" and not "Absolute"?
Maybe he actually used the right words after all.
Just as I thought that—
Creeeeak.
A loud noise rang out.
Creeak. Crunch.
The mysterious sound continued.
I soon realized where it was coming from.
The metal door that had been slowly traversing the funnel-shaped barrier was beginning to crumple.
It was as if it were being crushed in the grip of a giant.
The struggle between the funnel barrier and the steel door, accompanied by the roaring noise, lasted for about two seconds.
But having lost its momentum due to being crushed, the metal door finally stopped its advance.
Immediately after, it was compressed into a metal sphere and plummeted to the floor.
Thud.
The sound of the former metal door, now a sphere, slamming into the earth echoed through the room.
“Did you see that, you muscle-brained boar! This is my new power! My past mistake was overlooking the fact that power transcending the laws of physics exists in reality! Therefore, even if I lower the defensive capability of the barrier, I simply crush the attacking opponent by creating a shield that serves as both offense and defense! Within my barrier, the opponent’s strength is converted into my own! This is the answer I have found regarding contradiction!”
Listen, mister, that’s not what a contradiction is.
And don't say all that in one second using chant acceleration. Who else but me could even hear that?
Actually, it felt like he said it specifically for me to hear, but no matter how I looked at it, it was a waste of talent.
Regardless, the barrier was impressive.
Reflective barriers or barriers that convert an enemy’s power are common enough.
But most of those barriers have weak defensive capabilities or fail to react to power above a certain threshold.
However, this barrier managed to turn back my strength, even if it was through a projectile rather than a direct hit.
“As expected of Magic Weaver. You’re a genius.”
“Indeed! I am a genius! Now, kneel! You God of Misfortune Magical Girl!”
However, there was one problem.
“What are you going to do if your opponent doesn't go inside that funnel?”
The moment the barrier had deployed, I had jumped on a different trajectory from the door and clung to the ceiling. That was the question I tossed at Magic Weaver.
“Even a genius like me didn't anticipate that.”
Magic Weaver looked up at me, spouting nonsense with his usual dazed, idiotic expression.
“Then die.”
I delivered a dropkick straight to his face.
The sensation of his black horn-rimmed glasses shattering under my foot felt pretty good.
* * *
Anyway, thanks to that incident, the sparring session with my disciples didn't happen.
Not only had my motivation to do anything vanished, but I also had a new task to attend to.
After Magic Weaver was knocked out from our "sparring," I dragged him to the school grounds. I hung a wooden plaque around his neck that read, "I am a loser," and finished the morning’s events by tying him to the charred cross—the one that was just a black pillar now after my doll was burned on it yesterday.
Afterward, I stopped by the Dining Hall for lunch.
First, a mage who was startled by the sight of me tripped and splashed soup all over me.
Then, after I finally got my food, a stray spark flew in through the window and exploded over my head, triggering the fire alarm and making the food inedible.
Incidentally, Magic Weaver confessed to firing that spark, so I went back and gave the guy tied to the pillar another beating. I changed the text on his plaque to "I am a stupid mage who was defeated by a Magical Girl," gagged him, blindfolded him, and then returned to the Dining Hall.
I ordered food again, but the reply came back that they couldn't make the dish I wanted because they were out of ingredients.
Exhausted by the chaos, I just told them to give me anything.
And this was the result.
“…Master. What is that?”
“…Probably a sandwich.”
I replied, staring at the food on my plate.
A single sandwich made of white bread with a massive amount of cucumbers stuffed inside.
There was some kind of white sauce, but other than that, it was just… nothing.
Hoping there might be actual fillings inside and that the cucumbers were just pushed to the edges for aesthetics, I peeled back the bread.
My hopes were ruthlessly betrayed.
It was truly just white sauce, white bread, and green cucumbers.
“…What kind of country would even invent and order something like this?”
“Oh, I know that one, Master! It’s British!”
The British… those guys always make the strangest things.
Can’t the English learn a thing or two about cooking from the Scots to the north or the Frogs to the south?
Or they could just stick to eating tea biscuits for the rest of their lives.
They’re actually good at making biscuits.
Every time I say this, I remember Macbeth, an Englishman, telling me with a solemn face that it’s just a prejudice.
But seeing as even Macbeth has never shown me a proper counterexample, it seems my prejudice will continue.
As I stared blankly at the Cucumber Sandwich, lost in my weary memories…
“If it’s bothering you that much, why don't you just throw it away and order something else?”
A-bin spoke up, looking like she felt sorry for me.
“…I can’t just throw away food.”
I replied, picking up the lunch that filled me with dread.
Actually, if you think about it, I’ve eaten bugs before, so there’s no real reason to hate this.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I slowly brought the Cucumber Sandwich to my mouth.
As it got closer, the distinct, fishy smell of cucumber began to tickle my nose.
…Let’s just get this over with.
I opened my mouth wide and shoved the sandwich in.
Crunch.
The crispness of the thick cucumber contrasted with the soft white bread.
Even though my senses were either extremely dull or extremely sensitive, I wasn't so far gone that I couldn't feel such a sharp contrast.
Since my sense of taste was currently set to dull, I was about to swallow it all while ignoring the impending bitterness of the cucumber, when—
“Pfft!”
An overwhelming bitterness surged through me, and I ended up spitting part of the food back onto the plate.
“….”
“….”
Silence fell.
Han A-bin was looking at me with a strange expression.
Baek Si-hyun looked like she had discovered something amusing.
And I was left wondering what the hell just happened.
I stared at the half-chewed Cucumber Sandwich that was now essentially food waste.
Sure, I do hate cucumbers.
The smell, which is a mix of dirt and fishiness.
The weirdly crunchy texture.
The strange taste that’s just horribly bitter.
But these were things I barely felt after becoming this body.
Yet, I had just remembered them all too clearly.
“…No, it’s just that I’m genetically incompatible with cucumbers.”
After offering a pathetic excuse even by my standards, I finally gave up and threw the food away.
Having lost my appetite after disposing of the sandwich, I sat with just a glass of sparkling water in front of me, watching my disciples eat as I began to think.
Something. Is strange.
First of all, my physical condition isn't normal.
It feels like my senses are haywire.
It’s not that my senses have suddenly returned to normal. The grand premise of being either extremely sensitive or extremely dull hasn't changed.
However, it feels like it’s switching on and off of its own accord.
And, separately from that.
“Ah!”
In the middle of my thoughts, a short scream rang out.
The one who let it out was a mage who was tripping to my right.
Glancing over, it seemed a slice of cucumber I had spat out earlier had fallen on the floor.
And he had stepped on it.
The mage, who took a spectacular tumble, sent his food flying into the air, but this time, nothing unlucky happened, like the food spilling on me.
There was quite a bit of distance between us.
However, something was flying toward me, so I reached out and snatched it.
It was a silver, metallic piece of cutlery.
“…This is getting ridiculous.”
I muttered, looking at what was in my hand.
A sharp object used for eating. A fork.
A mage trips, sends a fork into the air, and the utensil moves in a perfect parabola to embed itself in my head.
“Master, where did you suddenly get a fork from?”
Baek Si-hyun, her mouth full of spaghetti, asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I replied, setting the shiny fork down on the table.
Seriously, something is wrong.
Even for bad luck, isn't this just too much?