The Big Picture (2)
The second floor of the White Magic Tower, in the cafeteria.
A deep sigh drifted out from this space where mages came to rest.
"Whew."
The source of the sigh was Elder Schwein Koch, a gaunt, scrawny middle-aged man.
He had been holed up in his laboratory for the past several months, and this was his first outing in a long while. He was sighing for one reason only: he had yet to complete the paper he'd sworn to present at this year's White Night Festival, no matter what.
The theory is flawless—I'm certain of it.
But the magic itself refused to manifest, and it was enough to drive a man up the wall. More than seven years had already passed since he began this research. He could finally glimpse the end of the tunnel, which only made him all the more impatient.
The structure of the formula is crude and simplistic, yes, but there's nothing wrong with the architecture itself. Which means, in the end, that I must have calculated the mana values wrong.
Another sigh slipped out of him, deeper than the last.
An error in the mana values. No theoretical mage alive wouldn't fear those words.
I suppose I'll be locked in that laboratory for another few months.
And until he found the correct values to slot into the formula, he would repeat endless rounds of experimentation. If only he had even one fellow theoretical mage to exchange ideas with and work alongside, things would be so much easier—but regrettably, no such talent existed around him.
Isn't there one clever soul anywhere?
For a while, Schwein scanned the seated mages with the predatory gaze of a professor hunting for promising students. As he took in the people shuddering under some inexplicable chill, a question crept into his eyes.
...Hmm? Something about our kids seems different, though.
How to put it—the shabbiness was gone?
In the past, the vast majority of them had worn old, threadbare clothes, whether they were postal workers' garments or White Tower robes. It had often been hard to tell whether someone was a beggar from the streets or a mage, and that had always pained him a little.
But now they looked presentable enough to hold their own anywhere. What was more, the facilities and fixtures inside the tower had apparently been replaced with new ones—the whole place looked pristine.
Did they hand out new uniforms and carry out renovations? But there shouldn't have been that kind of money to spare.
Just as he was blinking and puzzling over it, familiar faces passed by in front of him.
"Hm? Isn't that Elder Schwein?"
"Well, when did you crawl out?"
Maxim and Fidelina, who had been walking past with cold coffees in hand, had recognized him. Schwein greeted the pair, who had settled into the seats across from him as naturally as if they owned them.
"Maxim, Fidelina. It's been a while, hasn't it."
"How's the research coming? Looks like you came out after about three or four months this time."
"Why ask a pointless question like that? If it were going well, would he be wearing that miserable face?"
"...I have no rebuttal."
After Schwein let out a long sigh and explained his situation, Maxim spoke up.
"Hmm. So in a nutshell, you'd like someone to do the research with you."
"Any chance you're thinking of volunteering?"
"Don't be absurd. My brain's already gone stiff, and theory was never my field to begin with."
"I hate theory too—too stuffy for me. Managing money is far more fun."
"..."
Then shouldn't you be working in banking instead of a magic tower?
Maxim swallowed that retort down and continued.
"In exchange, there is one mage I'd like to recommend to you."
"Is that really true?"
"Of course. The skill is beyond question. I attended his lecture just recently, and even I gained some small enlightenment from it."
"Now that you mention it..."
Schwein belatedly looked Maxim up and down. Though he seemed not to have reached the 8th level, his realm of understanding had undoubtedly deepened.
"Congratulations. The White Tower may have cause for celebration before long."
"Haha, that's still a long way off."
"You said this person gives lectures, so I take it he's a professor. Who is it?"
"Not a professor—he's someone you know well. Oscar Crucian."
At the mention of that name, Schwein gave a dry laugh.
"Your sense of humor has improved a great deal since I last saw you. You know perfectly well what magic I'm researching, and you're still recommending him? Granted, Oscar has quite the reputation as a genius, but only remarkable for his age. This is not research a mere Level 1 mage could possibly comprehend."
"What about giving him the chance, at least? He's a talent far too extraordinary to be cut down to size by the frame of a level."
"And Oscar is Level 2 now, by the way."
Fidelina added this with a snort.
"Come to think of it, you've been buried in that laboratory, so you don't know anything, do you?"
"...Don't know anything? What do you mean?"
"Look around you. Doesn't the atmosphere seem different somehow?"
"Ah, that—I had noticed it, actually."
Schwein voiced the question he'd been harboring all along.
"What in the world happened? Did someone win the lottery or something?"
"A lottery... well, I suppose it counts as a kind of lottery."
What's so special about a lottery anyway? If you scratch and hit the jackpot, that's a lottery, isn't it?
"I'll say this—credit goes entirely to Oscar Crucian. It's all thanks to that boy's potential finally bursting open."
"Hm? What do you mean by...?"
"Ah, this is really something you had to see with your own eyes to appreciate. So here's how it all happened..."
The chatty Fidelina launched into the story with a face full of excitement.
It began with the incident in which Oscar Crucian had died and come back to life.
"Ever since then, the boy changed completely, and I knew it the moment I saw him. Ah, he's finally cracked out of his shell, I thought."
"Hilarious. Weren't you the one who stomped your feet and said there was no money to give a boy who wanted to run a potion business?"
"Th-that was a test! To see how much resolve he actually had!"
"Our boy? Since when was Oscar yours? If anything, I was the one who first recognized his true worth—from the very moment he woke up in that sickbed and cast a Wind Shield."
Midway through the story, the two of them had broken into an argument over who had spotted Oscar's potential first. Watching the spectacle, Schwein spoke with an exasperated expression.
"Enough. Kindly get back to the story."
"So anyway..."
As the tale resumed, Schwein's expression shifted from moment to moment.
"Hmm. So, in a nutshell, Oscar Crucian achieved a breakthrough in alchemy."
"It wasn't just that he made things well. The way he sold them was remarkably sophisticated in itself."
"And don't forget his lectures on magic. The way he explains things so simply that it all sinks right in—from what I've heard, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he's already joined the ranks of high-tier mages."
It was the first time those two—who normally clashed like oil and water—had ever praised the same person in unison.
By now, Schwein couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity about Oscar Crucian, the boy who had supposedly transformed so completely.
"Ahem. Since you two recommend him so strongly, I'll meet with him."
Of course, even as he said it, he held no real expectations. A Level 1 mage at best—or, what was it now, Level 2? A mage of such low standing couldn't possibly understand the research he was conducting.
This isn't me looking down on Oscar. It's simply how things have to be, structurally.
Even when looking at the same object, the information available from the first floor and from the rooftop are entirely different in scope. Genius or not, the view from a Level 2 mage's eyes had its limits.
In fact, that's exactly why it will be all the harder for him to grasp.
What he was researching now was nothing less than the signature spell of a genius among geniuses—the Great Mage once called the mage of all mages.
He was working to restore the lost magic of Lord Oscar Sage.
Oscar, having heard the announcement and made his way to Elder Schwein's laboratory, blinked at the man before him.
"It's been a while. Have you been keeping well?"
...Who was this again?
When he failed to respond, Schwein gave an understanding nod.
"Ah, of course—I recall being told your memory isn't quite intact."
"Yes, I'm sorry. I suffer from amnesia, you see."
The lie had worn so smooth with use that not even a trace of guilt pricked at him anymore.
Schwein regarded him with a touch of pity before continuing.
No matter. My name is Schwein Koch, and I hold an elder's seat in the White Tower. My specialty is theoretical magic, and my chief duty is restoring lost magics to the world."
"...!"
A theoretical mage!
At those words, Oscar's eyes went wide.
A mage of suitable age and standing, with position and prestige, and thoroughly versed in theoretical magic... and he's even in the middle of restoring lost magics?
Was this not, quite literally, a man who checked every single condition Oscar had been looking for?
"In any case, I have a piece of research I intend to present at this year's White Night Festival. But I'm finding it rather difficult to complete it in time on my own."
"So you're looking for a research partner."
"Precisely."
Not a bad offer—no, it was exactly the one he'd been hoping for.
If I help with the research, the restoration will speed up enormously.
What was more, everyone would credit Elder Schwein as the one who restored the magic. No one would dream that a mere Level 2 mage had contributed meaningfully to reviving a lost spell.
Having laid out the perfect plan, Oscar gave a respectful nod.
"It would be an honor to take part in your research, Elder."
"I appreciate you saying so. Though it feels a bit rich to say this when I'm the one asking for help—would you mind taking a simple test first?"
"Of course not. Besides, it would be absurd to recruit a research partner without checking their ability."
"Hm!"
Greatly impressed by the answer, Schwein clapped his hands together.
"An excellent attitude. I find myself sincerely hoping you pass."
"I'll do my best."
"Here—simply solve the problems on this paper. I'll give you fifty minutes."
Taking the exam sheet, Oscar sat down and began working through the problems at a brisk pace.
Most of them involved finding errors in mana formulas or correcting mistakes. A few were more advanced, requiring the solver to derive the precise mana values for a given formula.
Easy.
But nearly all of them sat at the level a theoretical mage of the 5th or 6th rank could solve without much trouble. From the difficulty of the questions alone, Oscar could gauge what sort of talent Schwein was after.
He's looking for a researcher to catch basic errors. In other words, he's already finished the core research and is either approaching final verification or has worked things down to the point of needing the mana values.
As Oscar calmly worked through the problems with these thoughts in mind, Schwein's head began to tilt sideways. He was watching the boy solve them, and the speed was simply too fast.
...Even a capable Level 5 theoretical mage couldn't solve those that quickly, could he?
Impossible, unless the boy possessed the concepts and the reasoning power of a high-tier mage. Schwein felt a flicker of disappointment inside.
Is his pride so wounded at being unable to solve them that he's scrawling down whatever comes to mind and planning to turn it in?
If that were the case, the only result he could give was failure. But Schwein gave no sign of it, quietly waiting until the paper was handed over.
"Hm?"
Then, for the first time, Oscar's ceaselessly moving pen stopped.
It was the final question—one boasting a difficulty on an entirely different tier from the rest. But Oscar had paused not because the problem was hard.
Wait. No matter how I look at it, this is a spell I made.
He had simply been caught off guard by the sudden wave of nostalgia, seeing an old friend after so long. This was a magic he had created while conducting a certain project with the imperial family. After the project ended, it had lost its usefulness, and he'd forgotten all about it.
So the records for this magic survived somehow, did they?
Otherwise there was no way it would have been used as an exam question. Without a moment's hesitation, Oscar wrote out the answer to the final problem.
"...Hm."
Watching this, Schwein's suspicion hardened into certainty.
He's writing the answer straight down—without even working through the solution?
The final question was a deliberate trap, constructed so that the solver was bound to get it wrong. For good reason: it asked for the mana values of the very formula he was currently researching.
In other words, it was an unsolved riddle—one Schwein himself had yet to crack.
I only wanted to see how he would approach a problem like that if we were to work together. That's all.
Unable to hide his disappointment, Schwein spoke.
"Finished?"
"Ah—yes."
Taking the paper, Schwein began grading at once.
"...Hm?"
Having graded the first page, he wore a look of surprise. On the surface it had seemed like careless scribbling, but every single answer was correct.
Apparently the boy had solved everything by mental arithmetic alone.
Well, well. I suppose that's fitting for someone called a once-in-a-generation genius?
The disappointed gaze he'd been directing at Oscar softened a little. And by the time grading passed the halfway mark, Schwein's expression had stiffened slightly.
...He solved this one in his head too? How long had it taken me again?
This was the kind of problem only a professor at a decent magic tower or academy could manage. If asked to solve it by mental arithmetic right now, Schwein himself would need a full two minutes.
Just how extraordinary is his computational ability?
Clicking his tongue in admiration, he pressed on with the grading—and reached the final page without even properly checking it.
"You pass! Unconditionally—you pass!"
"...I'm sorry?"
"I've been searching for talent like yours all this time. Why did you only show up now!"
Oscar looked at Schwein, whose face had blossomed into a beaming smile, and returned the smile in kind.
"Thank you for the warm welcome. Oh—though aren't you going to check the last page?"
"Hm? The last page?"
All that was written there, Schwein was certain, was the problem about the formula he was currently researching.
I see. It must be such a difficult problem that he wants to confirm whether his answer is actually correct.
Charmed by the endearing reaction, Schwein chuckled and checked the sheet.
"Hm?"
And the moment he laid eyes on the answer written there, Elder Schwein's eyes went round as saucers.
"Oscar. You've listed four mana values in a row here—which one of these is the answer?"
"Er—all of them. Looking at the structure of the formula, I judged that a single fixed mana value would inevitably produce errors somewhere, so I attempted to resolve it with a dynamic mana value—one that shifts partway through the casting. Was that the wrong approach?"
Dynamic mana calculation?
Hearing something entirely beyond his expectations, Elder Schwein's jaw dropped wide open.