Chapter 77: Plotting (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 77: Plotting (3)
The view of the Department of Blessing's professor office was roughly similar to the principal's office. Teaching aids and introductory textbooks packed the bookshelves.
The only unusual thing was a single stone sitting on a side table.
I wondered if it was a viewing stone, but its finish was far too rough.
I stared blankly at the stone, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease. Seeing this, the professor sitting across from me stroked the stone and spoke.
"It's a research specimen I happened to acquire not long ago. Even though it looks like a mere stone, it contains a faint trace of magic power. If you're interested, Cadet Kang Geomma, I can chip off a piece for you."
"Ah, no thank you."
I declined because it felt somewhat ominous to keep in my room.
Besides, my room was too small to have space for it anyway. And above all, collecting viewing stones was way too much of an old-man hobby.
That boomer vibe is just not it.
Soon after, Professor Damian pushed the teacup toward me again with a genial smile.
"Here, drink it while it's hot. The aroma should be wonderful."
Just as I was about to lift the teacup and take a sip, a sudden thought flashed through my mind like lightning.
...There's a saying that you should always steer clear of Russian black tea.
Because of this common sense from Earth, I felt hesitant to let it touch my lips.
I stopped just as I brought it to my lips. The professor tilted his head.
"Is there a problem...?"
Rejecting a drink brewed with such sincerity was a major discourtesy. But even so, I didn't want to just blindly consume whatever was handed to me.
Threats still lurked everywhere in the Academy. Even a professor, who should be the epitome of trust, had to be treated with caution.
Above all, the origin of the tea leaves really bothered me. Of all the places, why did it have to be Russia...?
I felt like I'd end up exposed to some hazardous substance.
"Now that I think about it, I have a black tea allergy. I'm sorry, especially since you went through the trouble of preparing it."
It was a blatant lie of an excuse, but I spoke with as much politeness as possible.
I put on the most sorrowful expression I could muster to ease the professor's embarrassment.
This was how to deal with elders, forged through years of social life.
For some reason, the memory of when I first met the old Sword Emperor came back vividly. I think that situation was similar to this. Whenever I see an elder, my posture automatically humbles.
After all, I survived twenty years of playing the designated drinker for elderly customers.
It was hard to shake off a service spirit engraved into my very bones. Still, compared to my past life where I was treated like a brown-noser for nightmare customers, well...
"Ah, is that so? Then it can't be helped."
The professor let out a hearty, good-natured laugh, as if accepting the situation. He cleared my teacup away and clasped his hands together.
"Never mind the tea, then. In any case, I'm glad you came to see me, Cadet Kang Geomma. Since you're here, please feel free to ask anything you're curious about! Although my knowledge isn't exceptionally vast, I will answer as sincerely as I can within what I know."
Words and actions where confidence and humility coexisted. A relaxed air hung over the professor's face.
Erudition peeked through his every minor gesture. I nodded and spoke.
"This is an extension of the question I casually threw out before: 'May the Blessing of God be with you.'"
"Ah, that. Actually, that phrase caught my attention as well, so I did some research of my own."
The professor suddenly pulled an introductory textbook from the bookshelf. Then, he perched his glasses on the tip of his nose.
Licking his finger to enthusiastically flip through the pages, he looked like a scholar through and through.
"Ah! Found it. Here it is."
He turned the book toward me with a pleased smile. Countless letters filled my vision.
The professor tapped a specific passage with his finger.
"This part. Actually, I went all the way to Russia just to find this book."
"Surely not because of me?"
"Cadet Kang Geomma provided the spark, but I was personally curious as well. Scholars are just that breed of people, so don't pay it any mind. If anything, I'm grateful to have learned something I didn't know."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Anyway, that's not the important part."
The professor leaned in close to me and poured out his words. His eyes sparkled with academic passion.
"As I mentioned once in a lecture, academia classifies blessings into four ranks: Personal Spirit-class, Guardian Spirit-class, Essence Spirit-class, and Heroic Spirit-class. Each name is based on the entity that bestows the blessing. While spirits are certainly transcendental, they are undeniably bound by necessity. But here is a question."
The professor paused briefly. Soothing his throat, which had grown dry from the black tea, he continued his explanation.
"Do you remember the last thing I said to you before?"
"There are no gods left in this world..."
As I muttered to myself, the professor smiled faintly.
"You have an extraordinary memory, Cadet Kang Geomma. How about it? Would you like to become my teaching assistant?"
Hearing those words, the lament of a graduate student who used to be a regular at my restaurant in my past life came to mind.
— Damn it! Boss, do you know what my biggest regret in life is? It's falling for that professor bastard's sweet talk and eagerly accepting the sycophant assistant position! Ahhh!
The young man who slammed his soju glass down, lamenting his life. I remembered him because it was rare to see someone look so utterly miserable. My heart had ached for him.
He said it wasn't a job for humans.
I shook my head to dispel the stray thoughts.
"Thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in academics."
"Ah, is that so? What a shame."
The professor swallowed his disappointment with a low groan.
"We've strayed off-topic for a moment. Anyway, the blind spot lies in those words. Now, let us travel back to the Mythological Age together."
He suddenly closed his eyes and recited his words like poetry.
"They say that in ancient times, of unknown origin, countless gods existed. We call that era the 'Mythological Age.'"
The professor's voice was dreamy, as if he were dreaming. I watched him in silence. They say people can go a bit crazy if they're too smart, and I think I understood what that meant.
"Here, the gods are not transcendent beings like 'spirits.' They are entities akin to concepts, stripped of all emotion, reason, status, and physical form."
"Concepts...?"
"Simply put, they are on a completely different level. Even the spirits, which are compared to stars, are nothing more than fireflies before the sun when standing in front of the gods."
He raised his voice, adding to the immersion of his words.
"Absolute beings who shed their mortal coils. Yet, even they could not escape death."
The professor's eyelids slowly lifted. Intelligence returned to his previously hazy eyes.
"For though he was of their own kind, a single god brought about the end of that era."
Professor Damian's expression hardened.
"The God of Sword."
"...!"
"They say the phrase 'May the Blessing of God be with you' was used by humanity immediately after the Mythological Age to revere 'him' and borrow his power."
He looked back at me. There was not a single tremor in his pupils.
"Does that answer your question?"
* * *
After finishing our private meeting, I stepped out of the professor's office.
"I know he's smart, but he talks way too much."
I didn't even get to ask my questions about magic before leaving in a hurry. If I had kept listening, the story wouldn't have ended today. I walked down the hallway for a bit and scratched my head.
"It feels like I gained something, but at the same time, like I didn't."
It's a story from when humans were still primitive. It was bound to be vague and ambiguous.
Still, I could only be grateful for his dedication in flying all the way to Russia over a casual remark I had made.
Suddenly, I remembered the professor gulping down his black tea mid-sentence. I wondered if I had rejected him too coldly when he had gone to such trouble for me, but...
"...Still, Russian black tea is a bit much."
Just as I chuckled and was about to take another step, a sense of incongruity washed over me.
It was a strange feeling, as if I had walked out without putting on clothes. But the thought lasted only a split second.
"Ah, I didn't bring my Sashimi today."
No wonder my sensory range felt narrower than usual. I didn't normally make this kind of mistake, so I must have been quite excited. It had been a very long time since I felt such a surge of excitement.
Lately, it had been a continuous series of grim events.
I had killed people and slain demons.
It was a massive departure from the ordinary life I had enjoyed just a short while ago, before entering the Academy.
Because of the aftermath, my personality had also changed significantly.
Most things failed to stimulate me, and my temperament had grown dry and dull.
But when I was with the club members, I felt energized, and my tension and fatigue melted away.
A small smile slipped out. Just as much as they relied on me, I was leaning on them too.
"I wonder how far along the preparations are by now."
I had slipped away because I had some free time, but now I should go help out. I quickened my pace.
* * *
The midsummer heat was in full swing.
The scorching sun beat down mercilessly, and sweat poured down my spine.
Even in this weather, Joaquin Academy was packed with crowds.
"Hey, hey! Isn't that guy Mahatma Sindbad, the savior of India?!"
"Oh my god, crazy. If we post this on TikTock, the views will explode! Let's ask him to take a picture."
There were so many footsteps moving about that clouds of dust kicked up.
"Wow, Mao Rang is here too. Her leg line is insane. Is the qipao truly the future of humanity...?"
"Still, you can't beat the American style. Look at All Mute over there. That skin-tight bodysuit wrapping her entire body. Whew—as expected, American heroes are just in a class of their own."
The cadets' eyes spun at the continuous parade of wonders.
Click, click.
The sound of shutters snapping. It wasn't just the cadets crowding around.
"Miss All Mute, you are a leading candidate to become the next member of the Seven Stars! Could you share your thoughts?!"
"You have always maintained a friendly stance toward South Korea, one of the two superpowers. Is that still the case?!"
"Do you know PTS, Chi-sung Pak, Heung-min Son?"
Reporters with Academy access passes hanging around their necks focused their lenses on the famous heroes.
The heroes naturally bathed in the barrage of camera flashes.
"...So damn cool."
Weapon muttered, staring in that direction. His eyes were filled with envy.
Watching him in disbelief, Ryozo pinched Weapon's side.
Twist— with the sound of pinching flesh, the archer's grip proved brutal.
"Aaaaaaaagh!"
Weapon rolled on the ground, letting out a high-pitched scream. Ryozo glared down at him coldly.
"We're busy to death, and you're still daydreaming?! It's already distracting enough with so many people around. What are you doing just standing there like an idiot, Weapon?!"
"Ah, let's use our words, okay?! Besides, world-class heroes are here. How could I not look?!"
"Ha! You're the one who whined about doing a booth, which is why we started this in the first place! Instead of rolling your eyes around, move your hands!"
For the record, the hierarchy between the two had already been settled over the poster incident.
The method was a duel, and the winner was, of course, Saki Ryozo. Perhaps because of that, casual violence had become a daily routine between them.
The duel itself had been quite rough. She had beaten Weapon like a dog on a hot summer day using her armament, Red Bow, White Arrow, as a club.
It was so brutal that even Chloe, a former assassin, had twitched her eyebrows... so further explanation will be omitted.
Who knew an archer would use a bow like that...
Thus, Weapon had returned looking like a bloody pulp. He was barely breathing, and it was a miracle he survived. It was a relief that Weapon was a healer capable of self-healing.
In any case, Weapon's stubbornness regarding the poster had been broken since that day, so it turned out well in the end.
I looked around the booth. Chloe was diligently prepping ingredients. Senior Hana was filling out the ledger, her glasses glinting.
After checking the time on my phone, I gathered the club members. I scanned their faces and spoke in a low voice.
"Ten minutes before opening."
I deliberately made eye contact with each of them.
"Serving food to customers for money is by no means a light matter."
The first event since the founding of the Travel Club.
"But don't be too nervous. Just do exactly as we practiced."
Perhaps our last festival.
"If we're going to do this, let's enjoy it."