It's Not Like I'm Learning from a Genius -1-

Under the dim lighting, I sat at my desk, bathed in faint moonlight, sorting through my thoughts.

'How do I live without doing a damn thing?'

My goal had been set from the moment I possessed this body into the novel: enjoy a peaceful, happy life as a freeloader. I wanted to indulge in all the things I couldn't in my previous life. That's just human nature. Avoid conflicts, watch fights from the sidelines, earn a ton of money and live luxuriously—that's what people crave.

And as the novel progressed into its latter half, things got too serious to brush off with a laugh. I didn't want to get involved. The events surrounding Yuria grew incomparably brutal compared to before, and the bullying she faced at the academy intensified.

Watching the story unfold from the sidelines might be fun, but I had zero intention of giving up my happy freeloader life for that alone. The protagonists' growth curves would steepen over time, and a plain old possessor like me had no clue if I could even keep up.

To spectate their tales safely, I'd need defenses strong enough to dodge sudden deaths. That worried me too. Sure, right now I outclassed the sub-male leads by a wide margin in raw power, but it was still catchable.

So my dream was to be a total slacker. I didn't want to do jack shit. But that wasn't easy either. The sub-male leads' slow growth aside, when the heretics started stretching their legs in the shadows, a possessor like me had to show minimum courtesy.

Helping them just a bit—without hindering their growth—was payback for devouring their serendipitous encounters so deliciously. I couldn't just ignore it like a true slacker. The protagonists' growth in the story leaned more on enlightenment than sheer opportunities, so it wasn't a huge issue, but I still owed the snowballing plot that basic respect.

And I had to protect the young lady. Hans's incident drove that home: I needed to grow strong enough that no one could threaten my people.

So, what now? It was time to revisit things I'd shoved to the back of my mind. Like what would happen when the heretics lurking in the shadows stepped into the light. And my own stagnant power. I needed to think about that.

At this point, I could be classified as a solid powerhouse. In fantasy terms, maybe A+ rank. Not quite S+ like Rowen or Darbarb, but I could take on a heretic archbishop solo.

Ruin and Mikhail were way below at B-rank. Yuria around C, maybe. Archbishops were A-rank like me. Heretics had various ranks, roughly five major ones. The bulk were 'fanatics.' Then 'interrogators' who earned the right to learn black magic through faith. 'Archbishops' and 'apostles'—elite monsters with exceptional might. And at the top, their leader: the 'Pope.'

Listing who I could handle...

I cautiously opened my notebook and scribbled, circling feasible foes in red ink one by one.

Apostles? One word: monsters. Overwhelming power. Some lurked in the empire's upper echelons. Others spread heresy from within the Goddess Church. Hidden in mountains or famous enough for everyone to know their names. Their strength rivaled Rowen or just below, each with unique abilities tailored to their traits. S-rank if I had to peg it.

'I've got a long way to go.'

I'd thought I was plenty strong, but that was arrogant. Deep in thought, I scribbled more. Time to note the villains.

'Hmm...'

I dipped my pen in ink, lost in thought. Pascal—the bug-like freak who left a strong mark as Mikhail's natural predator. A psycho who massacred innocents and kids by puppeteering them.

Of course, he was entertaining the masses in prison now, so no concern there.

'Next... Hans, I guess.'

Ruin's friend and the tower master's disciple. Stealing abilities from fully comprehended targets wasn't too worrying on paper, but it wasn't that simple. As time passed, he'd spawn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠endless variables—a threat that ranked just below apostles in the original. Fitting his 'Greed' title, he snatched powers indiscriminately with no growth ceiling. He could yoink from fanatics or, like in the novel, the tower master's unique magic.

Thinking back to when he showed up disguised as Ruin, his power-hunting had kicked into gear...

'Should've killed him...'

Trusting the tower? I'm the crazy one. Hans's known abilities so far: three. Magic he'd studied pre-corruption. Black magic to steal unique powers. And mimicry magic for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠appearances.

Honestly, Hans was manageable. Once I got Tyrving, he couldn't beat me—and even late-novel Hans would get stomped. Our matchup was disastrously bad for him.

But for our protagonists? Pure disaster. Especially Ruin—he'd turn into a monster delivering nightmarish memories.

By the time I'd filled the page, I scrawled in bold about the next event.

'Sounds like a disaster.'

Whatever. I'd decided not to care, but obsessing over the plot was an occupational hazard for possessors. I loved the novel too much to skip fun parts.

Eh, they'll handle it. I trust you punks.

With a light smirk, I methodically noted ways to boost my power. Start with magic.

Another peaceful day in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the young lady's room. Wearing her rimless glasses, she furrowed her brow with a serious expression.

Adjusting her glasses haughtily, she let out a deep sigh.

"Idiot."

"..."

"Dumbass."

"..."

"Shitdog."

"Isn't that a bit harsh? How can you compare a person to an animal?"

At my indignant reaction, she covered her mouth and giggled with a little "hihit."

"But Ricardo's an idiot, what can I do?"

"It's not idiocy—it's difficult."

"That's what makes you an idiot."

Her verdict was ruthless. Today was magic lesson day with the young lady. To break my power stagnation, I'd considered options and concluded magic offered the fastest high returns. So I'd awkwardly begged her to teach me.

-No way.

-Please, just once.

-I can't use magic, how am I supposed to teach?

-You're magic just by existing, miss.

-Hihit... True, but.

She fell for the flattery. After bribing her with heaps of chocolate, I'd secured the most talented magic teacher in the story—author-endorsed as having the best magical gift. No hired tutor could compare.

I dove in eagerly, and this was the result.

She glanced at the single paper on the desk and launched into a lengthy explanation.

"Okay, one more time."

"Yes."

"Magic has five main attributes: fire, water, wind, earth, nature. Learn 'em, and you can use 'em right away."

Suddenly, she looked intellectual. As expected... a genius. I'd thought she was just a chocolate-obsessed fool, but in her specialty, she shone differently. Captivated by her eloquence, I raised my hand with a question I'd been holding—worth the chocolate investment.

"What about flashy lightning magic? I wanna use that."

"You can't."

"Magic discriminates against commoners too? What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a shitty world."

"Nah, it's rare attributes. Stuff like your 'lightning,' or light, space, summon, holy speed magic—only special people get 'em. Summoning's my specialty."

"Oh... That headless knight from the academy was your summon? Thought it was a demon—scared me."

"...Yeah."

"Knew it."

"Knew what!"

"Nothing. Talking to myself."

A cocky mage embarrassed about her own summon. I'd known about her rare attribute for a while, but teased anyway.

Still, assuming I had no hidden talent stung a bit. Feeling indignant, I raised my hand again.

"What if I have some insane attribute? Like holy or space magic?"

"Hmm..."

Pouting thoughtfully, she sighed and shook her head.

"You're too ugly for that."

"...?"

"Yup."

"That's racism, you know?"

"Nope. Ricardo-ism."

"That hurts more."

"Hihit..."

Infuriated by her dodging with laughter, I itched to pinch her cheek—but as the student now, I held back on disrupting the teacher. I'll torment her like crazy after class.

Ahem. Clearing her throat, she refocused the mood. Seemed she didn't want to justify butler discrimination. Feeling sulky, I pouted openly.

"Don't pout."

"I'm not."

"Liar."

"No reason to pout—I'm just a butler with no standout talents."

"No, Ricardo..."

Blushing shyly, she fiddled with her fan.

"You're good at cooking."

"...Pfft. What kinda talent is that?"

"Your cooking's delicious. No need for flashy stuff."

"No... Kh! Got it. Hearing that makes me happy."

She shook her head vigorously, banging the desk when embarrassed by praise.

-Smack!

"S-so, next. We'll try the easiest magic."

She pointed to the paper on the desk—a red magic circle. One I'd seen often. The most basic spell, usable by 98% of imperials. Fireball.

I sneered inwardly at the pathetic scrap. Treating me like a total moron with something this basic? Even without talent, I wasn't too dumb to cast Fireball.

"Come on, what do you take me for? I can do this much."

She stared into my eyes intently.

-Wham...

"I know you can. Probably."

"So I can't."

"..."

A student's duty is to follow the teacher, so I swallowed my retort and focused.

"Okay... Visualize this circle in your head..."

"Visualize?"

"Yeah. Like this."

"How am I supposed to do that when you're not showing me anything?"

Furrowing her brow, she tapped her temple. Like telepathing to aliens—an oddly mystical pose. I nearly burst out laughing.

"Eeeek... Hieeek! Imagine it like thiiis...!"

Notebook and pen right there, yet tapping her temple to cast? Pfft... hilarious.

"Copy me!"

"Pfft... Okay."

"Hand on head, eeeek...!"

"Eeeek..."

"That's it! Then pow!"

"Pow!"

With a hearty shout, a red magic circle formed in midair, spewing flames—solar-hot crimson fire.

-Fizzle...

It winked out in under a second. Beaming proudly, I met her eyes—tiny rice-grain spark, but success!

"Pfft..."

"..."

"Puh..."

She stifled an explosion of laughter, cheeks puffed, shoulders shaking. My scholarly fire died.

"Don't laugh. That was my Meteor to me."

"Meteors aren't that small."

"..."

"And Meteor..."

"Stop."

"Okay."

Hmm. My visualization was perfect—what went wrong? Basic spells like Fireball needed no chant, no brain-wracking. Where'd I screw up?

The teacher seemed baffled by her dim student's issue too, staring oddly.

"Ricardo."

"Yes."

"Are you dumb?"

"...?"

"You lack imagination."

"My imagination rivaled Meteor."

"...Then?"

Pinching her brow seriously, she asked.

"What's the problem?"

"No idea."

"Me neither. First time seeing someone this dumb."

"Didn't you have off days too?"

"Me?"

She smirked arrogantly, snorting.

"Never."

"Ugh, lucky you."

"I know."

Learning from a genius was foolish after all.