Imposter Syndrome
Imposter syndrome. It was a psychological phenomenon common among medical residents, and one that Eri had previously suffered from. It refers to a state where, despite achieving high success, an individual dismisses it as an overestimation and belittles themselves. To put it more simply, it is the tendency to attribute one's achievements to luck rather than effort. It usually manifests in those who have experienced a rapid rise in social status.
I had experienced it myself. Back when I finished my residency and became a fellow. As my years of experience piled up and a professorship became practically guaranteed, my treatment within the hospital changed overnight. If I had to describe my state of mind back then in a single sentence, it would be this: Who am I? Where am I?
And now, having reincarnated into another world, I was recalling that feeling for the first time in ages. Excuse me? Who did you say you were? To put it in terms doctors would easily understand, it felt as if I had braced myself to meet the dean of the medical school, only for Hippocrates himself to suddenly walk through the door. I had almost broken character to ask him to repeat his name.
Not that I'm complaining, of course. To be absolutely clear, I didn't dislike success. In fact, I had orchestrated everything up to this point precisely to climb the ladder. I had synthesized Quinine and extracted Insulin to secure wealth and fame, raising my reputation in the process. I was already prepared for the reality that if I stood out too much, someone powerful would eventually try to slip a fancy leash around my neck. That was the inevitable fate of any misunderstanding-trope protagonist in a world like this. If I had to wear a leash anyway, I simply preferred one plated in gold.
If you're going to be a slave no matter what, it's better to be a winning slave than a losing one. With that mindset, I had been working to rake in as much money and fame as possible before my future master appeared to claim my leash. But... This is way too sudden. Even on the fast track to success, shouldn't there be a gradual slope? Having the absolute pinnacle of the magic world suddenly try to leash me felt like scaling a sheer cliff. Normally, this kind of development is reserved for the late game—or the mid-game at the absolute earliest. For a minor like me to receive such an offer felt premature.
What on earth does this old man see in me? Where did this misunderstanding even begin? Judging by my experiences so far, the misunderstanding was highly unlikely to be resolved, but curiosity got the better of me, and I spoke up.
"Why me, of all people? Why do you wish to take me as your disciple?"
"Did I not tell you? I have fallen for your ingenuity and creativity."
"But I am merely an alchemist. I possess not a single shred of talent as a Mage."
"Hmm. It seems you are the type who lacks self-confidence. Tsk, tsk. I wonder why the truly gifted are always like this. Though, polishing such a rough diamond is one of the few pleasures left to me in my twilight years."
"?"
The Archmage, Louis Edelhardt, lifted his teacup. "Let me give you a few reasons to believe in yourself. First, you do not fear failure."
That's only because I already know the answers beforehand. I didn't possess the reckless heart of a beast willing to plunge headfirst into research doomed to fail. I only touched projects I knew would succeed. But to Louis and everyone else, it was only natural that I appeared to be a man of relentless perseverance.
"Second, you possess a nature that knows how to embrace the mistakes of others. That is a virtue hard to find among the young mages of today."
That was solely due to my past life. When you work with medical residents, you naturally learn to view their mistakes with a degree of indulgence. Once you learn that, you stop getting disappointed. You simply don't expect much from them in the first place. Plus, you become an expert at cleaning up after your juniors. It was for this exact reason that I had forgiven Department Head Shen. He had stolen silver coins that I didn't mind losing anyway, so there was no reason to feel betrayed. That was why I let it slide.
"Third. You did not turn your eyes away from the unclean. Seeking wisdom even within the taboo of dark magic is precisely the quality a mage ought to possess."
That was because I was a 21st-century doctor. In the 21st century, medicine and poison were not strictly separated. Every poison could be a medicine depending on the dosage, and conversely, any medicine could become a poison. Even the concept of a vaccine, strictly speaking, was just injecting a weakened pathogen. Depending on how you looked at it, it was a highly dangerous act that could trigger a pandemic if mismanaged. We only administered them because the benefits far outweighed the risks.
"And fourth, most importantly. You never overlook the details that others dismiss in their daily lives. Your discovery of lead poisoning symptoms is proof of your broad perspective. This is an innate talent—a talent more necessary to a mage than any other."
The last one was a complete misunderstanding. I would have accepted the praise if I had actually observed and figured it out myself. In reality, I had simply brought over knowledge from my past life and presented it as my own discovery. I hadn't observed anything carefully, nor had I compiled and researched it. I was just freeloading on the achievements of the scholars who came before me. That was precisely why I couldn't afford to fall for my own hype. The moment I mistook this for my own genius, my lack of depth would be exposed in an instant.
"No, Elder. I am merely standing on the shoulders of giants. Even if what I look down upon is the world, the fact remains that I am but a dwarf."
"Hmm. Even guarding against arrogance. As expected, you possess the perfect qualities of a mage."
It seemed my sincere words failed to reach the Great Sage. Of course, being the Great Sage, he did pierce through to a certain essence, but a subtle misunderstanding kept skewing his perception. As expected of a misunderstanding-trope world, no amount of explanation would ever clear it up. Ultimately, I decided to accept my fate. However, to maintain my character, I pushed back one last time.
"I am sorry, Elder. But I lack the sensory perception to feel the ambient concepts around me. I am simply not destined to become a mage."
"I am aware of that. Ever since I entered this room, I have been constantly altering the environmental concepts. Any other mage would have grown irritated by the chaotic shifts, yet you seemed entirely oblivious."
Sigh. As expected of a Great Sage who had lived for a thousand years. He knew everything without me having to say a word.
"In any case, it matters not whether you possess the talent of a mage. I never asked you to become one. Do you remember my proposal?"
"To become your disciple."
"Indeed. I asked you to be my disciple, not to walk the exact path I trod."
"Then..."
"You may continue to walk the path of alchemy. I merely wish to lend you my wisdom. I am curious to see what new horizons you will unfold."
The one-eyed old man smiled warmly. There was no logical loophole to escape through. Honestly, there was no reason to refuse either. If anything, this was an offer I should greedily snap up.
"I understand, Elder."
"Excellent. Then I shall visit you here once a week. Each time, I will impart the knowledge you require."
"Am I not to go to the Imperial Palace or the Magic Towers?"
"Haha. My dear boy, I fell for your free-spirited thinking. What I wish to see is a bird soaring through the vast sky, not one locked inside a cage. I can arrange a tour if you wish, though you do not strike me as the type to want one."
I nodded at the old man's words. I still had far too much to study here in the Limbus Pit. I hadn't even fully recovered the medical skills of my past life yet. It was far too early to venture into the Imperial Palace or the Magic Towers. Fortunately, I had managed to avoid being thrust into high society completely unprepared. However, there was one unexpected detail.
I was fully prepared for the leashing event. Contrary to my expectations, the Great Sage possessed a remarkably progressive, free-thinking mind that defied the norms of this era. Or perhaps, having lived for a thousand years, it made more sense that he possessed such flexible thinking.
Does this mean I wasn't a character bound to the Magic Towers in the original story? Perhaps I had misunderstood. Maybe the master holding my leash wasn't the Magic Towers after all. If so, was it some grand duke or imperial royal who was destined to leash me in the original plot?
Or is it because I'm not an adult yet? For adults, there are legal leashing systems like becoming a graduate student or a lifetime prime minister, but putting a leash on a child who hasn't even fully grown would be child abuse. Perhaps they were holding off on leashing me for that reason. Though in a world where children's rights were practically non-existent, that was highly unlikely.
As I indulged in these silly thoughts, the Archmage, Louis Edelhardt, rose to his feet.
"Very well. Let us begin by changing how we address each other. Since we are now master and disciple, may I call you by your name?"
"Of course, Master."
"Good. Do you require my name? If you wish, I can announce our relationship to the entire empire."
I pondered my master's offer for a brief moment before shaking my head. Excessive attention was a poison. Especially when one lacked the capacity to handle it. My current standing was not yet mature enough to carry my master's name. The only direct disciples of Louis Edelhardt were the thirteen Masters of the Magic Towers or the Archmages directly serving the Imperial Family. It was far too early for me to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with figures of that caliber. Of course, there was another reason as well.
Besides, keeping it a secret sounds much more entertaining. There was a reason why that legendary cooking anime protagonist wore a band over his arm to hide his identity. Keeping it a secret only to reveal it later had a certain charm to it. I planned to keep this hidden not just from Eri and Wangcho, but from my family as well. After all, a secret is best kept when as few people as possible know about it.
"Then, for our next meeting, shall I visit your laboratory instead of this clinic room?"
"Yes. Would it be alright if we meet after my clinic hours?"
"Let us do so."
"I will give you the key."
"No need. Who do you think I am?"
"..."
The Father of Magic, casually declaring his intention to commit breaking and entering. His sheer confidence left me utterly speechless. It wasn't as if I could scold an 8th Tier Archmage and tell him not to do it, either.
"Understood, Master. I will make sure to be there on time."
"Very well. Have a good day with your patients, Julian."
"Ah, before you go." I called out to my master, who was about to leave the clinic room. "You must take your medicine." Business was business, and a patient was a patient.
At the highest peak of Sanctum Hill. The Magic Tower that overlooked the entire imperial capital. The only place in the entire empire permitted to look down upon the world from the same height as the Emperor. The Great Sage, Louis Edelhardt, sat at the desk in his workshop.
"..." The Great Sage quietly stared down at the small glass vial resting in his palm. The pale moonlight streaming through the open window illuminated the glass, revealing a murky, light-brown, viscous liquid inside. Turning his head, several other vials containing similar liquids were lined up across his desk. They were all medicines prescribed by the disciple he had taken in today.
— "Master, you are currently suffering from chronic lead poisoning. It cannot be cured instantly, so you have no choice but to take this medicine consistently."
Upon receiving the vials, the sage had asked for the underlying principle. To some, 1+1=2 was an obvious truth, but the sage could never rest until he uncovered the reason behind it. It was this very nature that had allowed him to elevate the concept of magic from mere folklore to a rigorous academic discipline. Thanks to this insatiable curiosity, he still held the title of Great Sage, and he felt no shame in questioning his disciple. And Julian had welcomed Louis's inquiry.
— "Lead binds tightly to the bones and nerves inside the body, so ordinary magic or standard antidotes cannot expel it. However, I discovered that the active ingredients in this medicine tightly bind to the lead in your system, allowing it to be flushed out through your urine."
— "Where did you discover such knowledge?"
— "In E-Sector. There was a lead leak in the smoke alleys. I noticed that among the workers there, only the beastmen exhibited remarkably mild symptoms. In their culture, they frequently consume duck eggs and garlic dishes."
As Julian answered Louis's questions back then, there hadn't been a single trace of disappointment in his eyes. If anything, he had looked on with admiration. He wasn't disappointed or dismissive of the fact that the Great Sage didn't know; rather, he seemed surprised and impressed that the sage accurately recognized his own ignorance. To think he understands the profound importance of knowing what one does not know...
At some point, the Great Sage had stopped asking questions of his disciples. In an era where ignorance was deemed a disgrace, the Great Sage was expected to know everything. A master had to excel in every aspect compared to his disciples, and the moment he showed a single deficiency, his prestige would crumble. Surely, this was not the attitude toward learning that the Great Sage himself had once preached. But that child was different.
Julian was different. He welcomed his master's questions and marveled at his wisdom, not just his raw knowledge. Just as the Great Sage had admired Julian's attitude, Julian had admired his. And thanks to that very attitude, Julian possessed knowledge that even the Great Sage did not. "Chelation... Chelation, he called it."
Louis let out a dry chuckle as he clenched and unclenched his trembling right hand. He had been using his mana to suppress the dying nerves, but he could not perfectly control the minute tremors. In truth, Louis had known for a long time that something was wrong with his body. Throughout his long life, as he researched countless magic tools and transmutation circles, the catalyst he handled most frequently was lead. There was no insulator as perfect as lead for suppressing the flow of mana and trapping the vibrations of the soul. Whenever he cast spirit or summoning magic, lead was an indispensable catalyst.
Mages vaguely knew that lead slowly ate away at a person's blood and mind. Yet, they dismissed it as a trivial matter, arrogant in their belief that their mana would protect them. Louis was no exception. For nearly a thousand years, he had handled lead with his bare hands and inhaled the fumes of molten lead while pursuing the truths of magic. The result of that pursuit was this trembling wrist and the agonizing headaches that struck him from time to time. Even these symptoms had only manifested recently because of his high Tier. Other mages, when faced with such symptoms, would resort to severing their own wrists and using divine magic to regrow them. It was a method the Great Sage himself had occasionally employed.
To think such a treatment existed. To discover it simply by observing daily life. Come to think of it, he had heard that Quinine and Insulin were discovered in a similar fashion. The corners of Louis's mouth curled upward. How many years had it been since he last saw someone who did not take the obvious for granted? He had always chosen only such individuals as his direct disciples. Due to his fastidious standards, the lineage of his disciples had been broken fifty years ago.
The Emperor will be pleased. Louis uncorked the vial, swallowing the powdered liquid and the pills inside. He grimaced slightly at the horrific bitterness, but he managed to swallow the supplements. He had been told that these supplements were absolutely mandatory to take after using the medicine Julian had prescribed.
What was the name of that medicine again...? Dimercap... what was it? Dimercapto? Dimercaprol? He couldn't quite recall. The name was too unfamiliar. Perhaps his mind had grown sluggish due to the lead. But it did not matter. He could simply ask his disciple again in a few days. If anything, his heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of the other questions he could ask based on this.
To think that the one I found in my twilight years is a disciple without a single shred of talent for magic. Whether it was a prank of fate or divine providence, he could not say. But one thing was certain: his steps toward that shabby clinic in the Limbus Pit every week would be filled with immense joy.