Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Choosing My Paradise
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After holding funerals for the people sacrificed to the orcs, we boarded the carriage to the capital once more.
How much longer did we travel like that?
The hellish jolting of the carriage finally came to a stop.
Paved roads at last.
Now I could enjoy the scenery without worrying about motion sickness.
Just as I leaned toward the carriage window to take it in, the coachman spoke up.
"We've arrived, sir mage. The capital starts over there."
"...Already?"
"Pardon? Already? It's been a whole week..."
I'd been looking forward to kicking back and enjoying the view... What a shame.
I paid the coachman enough fare for both of us.
"Oh, thank you... Wait a second, sir!"
"What's wrong? Not enough?"
"No way! I... I can't accept this much!"
"Nonsense. Just take it."
"Absolutely not!"
The coachman and I went back and forth, shoving "something" at each other.
Hans asked me,
"What was that about, sir? What'd you give him?"
"Nothing special. Just this."
"...A gem?"
"Yeah."
I wasn't a mineralogy major, so I had no idea what kind it was, but it looked valuable enough to fetch a nice price.
"Found it while we were preparing the funerals."
It felt a bit shady dipping into someone else's money, but what could I do?
The living had to live.
"And you gave that... to the coachman?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later."
I turned to the coachman.
"There was no coachman's body in that merchant carriage the orcs trashed."
"..."
His eyes went wide.
I continued,
"He probably bolted the second he saw the orcs. Left the carriage behind, of course."
His professional ethics were shot, but it was a smart move.
Survival trumped everything—no hard feelings there.
The coachman finally spoke.
"Some folks are like that sometimes... I didn't mention it so you wouldn't misunderstand, but you already knew, huh."
"Not blaming you. If anything, this is my thanks."
"Pardon?"
I looked straight into his brown eyes.
"Thanks for not running off like the others. Consider this a tip in return."
I pressed the pouch of gems back into his hand.
"Name's Isaac. Last name Uphills. And you?"
"I'm... Duncan. No last name."
"Got it, Duncan. See you around."
"...Yes, sir. Thank you, Lord Uphills."
And with that, I parted ways with the coachman.
As the carriage pulled away, Hans remarked,
"You're... still as sentimental as ever, sir."
"Sentimental? Nah, just good at spotting value."
Someone who puts professional duty above their own life is rare.
A gem to win one over? Bargain.
"...And that wasn't the only gem we pulled off the bodies, anyway."
"What?"
"We'll split the rest between us."
"Take care, Hans."
"You too, sir!"
Once we reached the capital, I said goodbye to Hans.
He headed to the mercenary guild, so who knows—maybe we'd cross paths again someday.
"Alright. Now what?"
The imperial capital buzzed with crowds and carriages streaming every which way.
The air carried the sweet scent of food mingled with the stench of sewers.
"Crowded as hell."
I set off toward my destination.
No need to ask for directions.
It was visible from anywhere in the capital.
The so-called Magic Tower.
"Whoa, that's tall."
In my past life terms, it was like a research institute, grad school, and faculty housing all stacked into one towering stone spire.
Faculty apartments and labs in the same building? In theory, a professor could barge in during your all-nighter.
Horrifying.
That aside...
"Building a dozens-story skyscraper without reinforced concrete. Impressive."
How'd they pull that off?
Magic, probably.
I stared up at the lofty tower.
Somewhere inside that behemoth was the school I'd join.
'Normally, you'd head straight to the tower, corner some grad students, and ask about the vibes.'
But you'd never get straight answers.
Even in another world, grad school was grad school.
Whistleblow on the crap conditions, and your PhD path slams shut—no one takes the fall for you.
So here, you trust the numbers, not the people.
I made a beeline for the Imperial Central Library.
The musty scent of old parchment greeted me quietly.
It had been ages since I'd visited a library—couldn't help but grin.
Soon, I reached the central lobby.
"How can I help you?"
A librarian with thick glasses peered at me.
"Planning to enter grad school and need help picking a school."
I let a trickle of mana flow from my fingertips, proving I was a mage.
"I was wondering how a commoner got in here. A mage, eh? One of us."
"You too, then?"
"Yeah. Scroll-making grad student—ended up working as a librarian too."
"Ah..."
I silently offered a moment of prayer for the grad student librarian.
"But for help picking a school, wouldn't the Magic Tower be better?"
"You serious?"
"Why not?"
"Then let me ask you this: What's the vibe like in your school, miss librarian?"
"Not bad."
"...For real?"
I stared into her eyes.
"..."
"..."
Her pupils shook like there was an earthquake.
Proof confirmed.
Grad students in this world were grad students through and through.
"Get it now?"
"Yeah... I'll grab some stuff that'll actually help with picking a school. Follow me."
She led me to the general magic shelves.
"...General? Any special ones?"
"Yep. Specials have grimoires infused with magic itself, not just theory books."
"Ah. Thought specials were just books that work in zero-gravity situations. Guess not."
"Pardon?"
"...Nothing."
Looks like I'm the only one in this world who'd laugh at relativity jokes.
Yeah. Just me.
Somehow, that was reassuring.
"The one I read before enrolling was around here... Found it. 'History of the Magic Tower.' Pretty helpful."
"Mind if I take a look?"
I skimmed the book.
Hmm. I see.
It neatly summarized each school's guiding principles.
Nice book.
Pass.
"Got anything more practical?"
"What vibe are you after?"
"Like 'Annual Budget Reports by School' or 'Grad Career Outcomes Data.'"
Her eyes went wide at my request.
"Not your typical undergrad... Super practical stuff. Let me check."
She soon returned with a hefty binder.
I spread the documents out on the table.
The librarian said,
"Need more? Come find me next aisle over—sorting books there."
"Thanks."
I dove into the reports.
First up: Flame Element Magic School.
Way too many high nobles. Politics? Hard pass.
Next: Classical Alchemy School.
Loads of cash, but the workload's insane. Pass.
Next... They hire too many for the budget.
Can't skimp on labor costs like that. Pass.
Pass. Pass...
After skipping dozens of schools, I finally found my ideal.
Magic Survey School.
Budget: rock bottom. Zero new students the entire stats period.
Looks like the worst, but not to me.
"Found it. My paradise."
I grabbed the file and approached the librarian.
"Hey, know anything about the Magic Survey School?"
She looked horrified.
"Pardon? Survey School? Why?"
"Thinking of applying."
"Are you nuts? They only get basic imperial funding."
"No budget means no work. Probably just studying all day."
I preferred studying over labor.
Low budget? Straight-up merit.
"True, but... they haven't produced a PhD in ages. You'd be screwed!"
She was genuinely trying to dissuade me.
Fair point.
Wasting your life under a prof who can't get you a PhD? Yeah.
"And you're choosing Survey anyway?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"No PhDs because no students to begin with."
"For real...? Nah, no way zero enrollees for years straight..."
I shoved the evidence in her face.
Magic Survey School.
No new students in the last five years.
"It... it's true."
Her eyes quaked again.
"In a grad program with no money or people, the prof's personality decides everything. Know what Professor Dolloren's like?"
She paused, thinking.
"Hmm..."
"It's not your school anyway. Just share the rumors you've heard."
"Professor Dolloren... Word is she's a great person. Good character, deep knowledge, never mistreats students..."
"Oh?"
"...But her research is on 'measuring the edge of the world.' That's the problem."
Grandiose nonsense.
Money sink.
Music to my ears.
"Any rumors about her stealing students' theses?"
"Huh? No ugly gossip like that..."
"Perfect."
I flashed a confident smile.
My criteria for grad profs was simple.
As long as no student calls them a "fucking bastard," they're good.
World's got plenty of trash profs.
But rumors of her great character? Dolloren was like Jesus or Buddha among professors.
"Thanks. Huge help."
"Wait! No money, no future!"
"But freedom? Gotta be."
I headed straight for the exit, no hesitation.
In this world, grad students take a "university-specific exam" to get in.
Meaning I couldn't dodge the draft until I passed the Magic Tower's test.
"What kinda slave draft needs an exam..."
I muttered, eyeing the rows of packed desks.
This was the Magic Tower's exam hall.
More precisely, the grad school entrance exam room.
It was jammed with people from all over the empire.
Never expected this many applicants for the Magic Tower.
"Heavens, please no elemental magic design questions this year!"
Some mages skipped studying to pray.
"Heard the dean made the exam this year... True?"
"Yep."
"...Gonna be brutal. Damn it."
Others obsessed over the exam-maker instead of the problems.
Anxious, jittery voices echoed everywhere.
-"The exam begins!"
A rough parchment test booklet thudded onto my desk with the proctor's booming voice.
I picked it up and scanned the first page.
'Hmm?'
I rubbed my eyes.
Looked again.
'What the hell...'
What did this David guy do to deserve a meteor?
'Is this how grad entrance exams are?'
I glanced around.
"This is..."
"How the...?"
The other applicants looked baffled too, so yeah, weird problem.
'Still, seems easy enough.'
Everyone saying it'd be hard because the dean made it? Wrong.
I picked up my quill and started writing the answer below.