A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 285: Theory of Relativity (4)

“… Wow,” Ria murmured, her eyes wandering around Deculein’s study. “It really does look just like they described.”

Deculein’s study was the epitome of refinement, with every piece of furniture—from the grand bookshelves to the velvet curtains—radiating luxury, not a speck of dust found anywhere, not even along the window frames or the tops of the shelves, the tiled floor gleaming, the books perfectly aligned, and the air itself feeling purer than in a sterile lab.

“Hmm? What, did he already clear it out?” Yeriel muttered, scratching the back of her neck as she rummaged through his desk drawer.

Ria moved over to where Yeriel stood.

“Anyway, you just need to know that you really do look like her… and you two will be seeing each other a lot from now on,” Yeriel continued, straightening the drawer in order.

Yeriel is putting everything back just the way it was. Deculein really remembers even the smallest details, doesn’t he? Ria thought.

“Here, take this,” Yeriel added, handing Ria a sheet of paper inked with densely written lines. “It’s a list of etiquette reminders. You’re a guest, so you won’t have any duties, but there are a few rules to follow.”

As Ria read through the list of etiquette rules, her mouth fell open as the instructions ranged from walking slightly to the right side of the hallway to observing strict table manners and avoiding coarse language in conversation.

“But hey—you were at the Imperial Palace for a few weeks, right? You’ll be fine.”

“Oh… okay,” Ria replied with a nod.

“Just stick to what’s on the list—and if you can, don’t draw his attention during the day. He’s rather particular about it,” Yeriel said with a chuckle.

“What, exactly, do you find particular about?”

As a sudden cold voice rang out from behind, Yeriel and Ria flinched before turning toward the entrance of the study.

“… You’re awake already? Was four days of sleep enough for you? Are you feeling alright?” Yeriel asked.

It was Deculein, whose face showed signs of fatigue, yet he was neatly dressed in a white shirt and black knit sweater—less formal and stripped of the weight of a suit but retaining all of its dignity.

It seems he doesn’t wear the whole suit around the house, Ria thought.

“You’re here,” Deculein said, glancing at Ria with little interest.

“Yes, I am here,” Ria replied.

“Yeriel,” Deculein said, while gesturing toward the door with his chin, and no further explanation was needed.

“Alright. Hey, if you ever need anything, just come up to the 5th floor—that’s my room. I’ll be staying here for a month, so don’t hesitate.”

“Leave.”

“Ugh, okay.”

Thud—

The door to the study clicked shut behind Yeriel as she left.

“… Gulp.”

Now alone with Deculein, Ria swallowed hard, a sudden wave of nervousness tightening her throat.

“Take this,” Deculein said, offering Ria a piece of paper first.

“What is this?” Ria asked.

“It’s the internal circuit map of your body.”

Ria looked down at the piece of paper Deculein had handed her and flinched as a chill ran through her because it was a human anatomical diagram of her own body—the kind one would usually see hanging in a science lab.

“This—”

“I can tell at a glance—the circuits within your mana and how they function,” Deculein said.

Honestly, that’s kind of creepy. It’s like he has taken my whole body apart—literally, Ria thought.

“Start by seeing it for yourself,” Deculein said, snapping his fingers.

Then, mana rippled across Ria’s anatomical diagram on the paper, flaring from her core and branching out in every direction.

“What?!”

“This is the flow of mana when you manifest your talent. Even you can see it’s all over the place—chaotic and without structure.”

Just as Deculein had described, the mana shown on the anatomical diagram wandered all over her body, barely managing to find its way out.

“Your body’s circuit is like uncultivated ground with no roads, and the mana within runs wild—disordered and without any structure,” Deculein concluded.

“Oh… yes. I can see that now,” Ria replied.

“Frankly, most adventurers are the same, and they waste more mana than they realize.”

I didn’t know that. Then again, I’ve never had formal training—I just learned everything by throwing myself into it, I thought.

“In contrast.”

With another flick of Deculein’s finger, the mana spread once more across Ria’s anatomical diagram, and this time everything changed as the mana inside her body flowed with clarity and precision, traveling down a perfectly paved road with not a single thread wasted as it surged toward its destination.

“This is the optimal circuit I designed for your body. On paper, it reduces mana consumption by 57% and boosts power by 33%. In terms of efficiency, that’s more than threefold,” Deculein concluded.

“Whoa… But, wait a second. You designed this, Professor?” Ria asked.

“Indeed, I factored in your height, weight, and mana capacity. It’s perfectly optimized.”

Ria’s brow furrowed without thinking because, more than anything, it was the numbers written on the paper—her height and her weight.

“H-How do you know my height and weight?”

“I can tell just by looking. But is that really what matters right now?” Deculein replied, sitting down with a sigh. “Don’t be pathetic.”

Ria’s chest tightened for a moment.

“… Right, it’s not important. Then, how do we build the road?”

“It’s simple. I will flow my mana into your body.”

Ria stared at Deculein, head tilted, completely lost on what he just said.

What did he just say he’s going to do with his mana to me? Ria thought.

“In other words, I will be laying the path—using my mana within your body,” Deculein added.

“… Eh?”

“With my mana, I will be directing yours and shaping an efficient path. After a few hundred repetitions, the way will open. It’s effectively a form of extreme accelerated training, but it’s the best method to train the body before the mind. Or would you rather spend the next two or three years learning it by the book?” Deculein said.

Ria shook her head because the main quest could end in six months and there was no time to waste.

“Very well. But know this—pain is inevitable. We’ll be forcibly correcting your circuit’s path and stretching its limits.”

“Okay, I understand,” Ria replied.

“Then make your preparations and return,” Deculein replied, giving a nod.

“Oh? But I’m already ready.”

Deculein remained silent.

“Let’s start right now!” Ria added with a bright smile.

There’s no need for any preparation. I’m an adventurer—pain’s something I got used to a long time ago, Ria thought.

“… Very well,” Deculein said, raising a single finger with a smirk.

A thin stream of mana bloomed from the tip of Deculein’s index finger and drifted toward Ria, flowing through her nose as she didn’t resist and it passed into her without a trace of resistance.

“Brace yourself.”

“I’m all ready for arghhhhh!“

The next moment, Ria coughed up blood that wasn’t just a trickle but came from deep within her lungs.

“… Urghhhhhhh.”

A burning pain tore through her gut, intense enough to feel like something inside had snapped, and when Ria came to, she was sprawled on the floor with her vision swimming and her limbs twitching without control.

“Urghhhhhhh…”

I can’t even breathe. This is the worst of the worst. That crazy Professor Deculein—what is this villain trying to do to me? Is he trying to kill me or something? Of course he is. A villain through and through. This freaking villain, Deculein.

“Ah— Ah— Ah—”

Ria couldn’t think as her mind was blank, her lips moved trying to form words but no sound followed, and she just lay there stunned.

“Hmm.”

At that moment, Deculein’s voice came from above, his tone dispassionate—as if he were critiquing a painting, not addressing a living person.

“That’s all you’ve got?” Deculein said.

Ria managed to raise her eyes, straining upward as Deculein’s unreadable stare met hers and she saw his face above her, distant and tinged with displeasure.

“No… not yet,” Ria replied.

Ria barely managed to speak as she pressed her clenched fist against the floor, trying to hold herself up.

“If that is the case,” Deculein said with a nod.

Then a second wave hit, stronger and harsher, causing Ria’s insides to twist, and just as she tried to rise, her body gave out completely and collapsed to the floor.

“Arghhhhh…”

Then a bizarre wave of pain swept through Ria, cold one second and burning the next, snapping like static beneath her skin so overwhelmingly that she couldn’t even breathe, and before her mind could shut down, her eyes rolled back.

“… Tch, perhaps such a frail body was never meant to hold a talent too grand for it.”

In the haze of Ria’s fading awareness, she heard Deculein’s voice slipping in as if reaching for her from far away.

“… Perhaps it may be best to discard it—a talent wasted, with nothing to be done,” Deculein concluded.

Hearing Deculein say he would abandon her, Ria clenched her fist as pride ignited in her chest, and with a tremble, she forced her eyes open against the darkness.

“Nat yat!” Ria shouted.

Ria tried to say not yet, but her tongue refused to cooperate and the words stumbled out.

***

By one o’clock, the two-hour training session had concluded, and I had changed into my formal suit and was preparing to head out.

“Where… are… you… going… Professor?” Ria asked, her words trembling with each breath.

“The Mage Tower,” I replied.

“What… about… the… next… training…?”

I looked at Ria as she asked, but she was crumpled on the floor soaked in blood with her mouth thick with clotted red and her nose pouring like a burst pipe, her eyes crimson and swollen as if weeping blood, and in that state, the fact that she was even speaking made her look like something out of a horror film.

The only reason I didn’t throw that bloodstained mess out right then and there was because of that face—the one that looked so much like Yoo Ah-Ra’s.

“Get your treatment first,” Deculein said.

As I’ve already arranged for a Harmonic-category mage and the proper medicine to stabilize her body, there shouldn’t be any residual effects, I thought.

“What… about… the… next… training… Next… training…”

I ignored Ria’s fading murmurs and walked out to the parking lot where the car was already waiting. I stepped in as my secretary Ren pulled smoothly onto the road, holding the official notice from the First Personnel Committee and staring at it in thought.

The subject was Epherene, and the trial would take place on the 90th floor of the Mage Tower, with any unresolved issues here escalating to the Floating Island, where it would turn into a far more complicated mess.

“We’ve arrived, sir. I’ll be standing by,” Secretary Ren reported.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of the Mage Tower.

“Go on ahead,” I replied.

“Yes, sir.”

After sending my secretary Ren back, I entered the Mage Tower alone and took the elevator to the 90th floor.

90th Floor

The 90th floor wasn’t somewhere an assistant professor could reach by normal means, as it was one of the highest tiers of the tower and the location where the First Personnel Committee was held.

Also, the layout of the place was clearly designed to intimidate, with the subject of the Personnel Committee standing at the bottom separated by a panel of magical glass and forced to look up at the judges above, who observed from a high balcony, looking down with absolute authority.

“Oh, you’ve arrived, Professor!”

“We’ve all been waiting for you, Professor!”

As I stepped inside, Relin and the other professors turned to greet me, and I offered a nod in return as I made my way to my seat.

“Professor Deculein! You’re here!” Chairwoman Adrienne said, beaming from the head of the table. “Assistant Professor Epherene will be here soon!”

I looked through the glass and saw a single chair set in the center of the shadows beyond it, where Epherene would sit alone by herself.

“Yes, Chairwoman,” I replied, nodding.

Adrienne smiled brightly, like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.

At that very moment, the loudspeaker flared to life.

— Assistant Professor Epherene is now entering.

***

… Seated in the lonely chair reserved for the subject of the Personnel Committee, Epherene sat in silence, her thoughts circling around only one thing—what she had done wrong.

Was submitting my thesis to Academia such a crime? Was the idea of integrating magic and science really such an unforgivable insult? Am I so influential—or was my mistake so catastrophic—that the Personnel Committee had to be convened just for me? Epherene thought.

— Regarding your thesis on the integration of magic and science—Assistant Professor Epherene, is it your professional judgment that such a theory is demonstrably valid?

The voice was Relin’s.

Maybe it’s because everything said at the Personnel Committee gets recorded that makes Relin speak like a gentleman, Epherene thought.

“Yes, I do, based on my research,” Epherene replied, her voice composed. “I was confident it could be realized—and that it would one day nourish the growth of magic.”

— … Assistant Professor Epherene, there’s a heritage to magic—a reputation it’s cultivated over centuries. The Mage Tower is no exception to this legacy.

This voice was Siare’s—a professor who always put on a gentle front yet never missed a chance to belittle commoner mages.

— You submitted a thesis to Academia that disregards both the dignity of magic and the legacy of the Mage Tower—and you continue that line of research even now. I hear you’ve turned your attention to something as ungrounded as the Theory of Relativity?

Epherene looked up at them from below, her teeth clenched and her eyes burning like blades aimed at every pair of eyes watching her.

— Is it your view, then, that no wrong was committed here?

“No,” Epherene replied without hesitation.

For a moment, silence pooled like shadow in every corner of the Personnel Committee chamber.

“I don’t believe I was in the wrong,” Epherene continued. “I never meant to challenge the dignity of magic or the Mage Tower.”

No matter how I turn it over in my mind, I find no wrong in what I did. If this is a matter of principle, then I stand by the belief that I did no wrong, Epherene thought.

“Was my thesis—my belief in the integration of magic and science—really such a wrong thing?”

— As expected of a pseudo-aristocrat’s daughter, and one who has never passed through the Academy’s gates.

Relin’s voice came again, and this time his words curled around Epherene’s house—her family.

— Had she been a commoner, I might’ve allowed her some leniency—ignorance can excuse much. But for a pseudo-aristocrat, that’s another matter entirely.

Epherene clenched her fist.

— Assistant Professor Epherene had submitted a thesis that dared to insult the dignity of magic itself, dragging down the reputation of the Mage Tower along with it—

“What even is dignity?” Epherene interrupted rotund Relin. “Is it really so important that it should stand in the way of progress? Integrating magic and science won’t weaken us—it’ll make us stronger, and I’m not saying science should replace magic! I believe in harmony—working together, side by side—”

— Enough of this nonsense! You’re from a house no one’s even heard of, and who are you to lecture us—

“Why is it nonsense?! What does class or house even mean anymore?! Since when does a mage need the right bloodline to prove their worth?!”

Thud—!

Epherene sprang to her feet, her chair crashing against the floor behind her as her voice thundered through the chamber louder than ever a moment later.

“Then I’ll prove it! I’ll show you I was right!”

Epherene believed without a doubt that she could prove the integration of magic and science—after all, if nothing else, she had time on her side.

“I’ll prove that I don’t need some bloodline! I’ll become a mage whose worth is entirely my own—”

— Epherene.

At that moment, Deculein’s even tone sliced through Epherene’s rising speech, causing her to swallow hard and look up at him with her breath caught in her throat.

— Bloodline matters, whether you choose to see it or not. Your talent is a product of what you were born into. Had you been born to commoners, do you believe you would have had your talent?

Epherene opened her mouth to argue with Deculein, but the words caught in her throat because her father had been a mage too, after all.

— Your father, though only half noble by blood, was exceptionally talented in theory. The history of the House of Luna itself is not without its share of distinguished mages.

Epherene remained silent.

— Furthermore, there is a singular quality in Yukline’s blood—one destined to be recorded in the annals of history. Iliade, Freyden, and McQueen all share this legacy in their own ways. The Mage Tower evaluates talent above all, but none would deny that a great portion of it is passed down by blood through their bloodline.

Relin had shouted until he was red in the face, but Deculein only had to speak, his words not rising but heavy with meaning, and authority didn’t follow him—it spoke with his voice.

— Therefore, what you just said crossed a line. Are you suggesting open defiance against the very foundations of our system?

Epherene remained silent.

— How pathetic.

Deculein’s words didn’t raise their tone, but they bit—digging into Epherene’s silence with the precision of someone who knew exactly where to press.

Epherene couldn’t see Deculein’s face, but she didn’t feel betrayed, because she had known all along who he was.

— I believe there is nothing more to be said. I, Deculein, as Head Professor, hereby put forth my motion to expel the subject from this institution as the just sentence of this Personnel Committee—

As the threat of expulsion tightened around her chest, ready to press down on her heart…

— Hold on a second! I object to that suggestion!

At that moment, Adrienne interrupted without warning, a lifeline for Epherene and a slap of disruption for Relin that he hadn’t seen coming.

— No mage has ever been expelled just for submitting a thesis! Especially not an assistant professor! The lower your authority, the less responsibility you have—that’s just how it works!

With a mischievous curl to her lips, the fairy continued speaking.

— The Mage Tower exists to protect the freedom of magic! Therefore, I suggest a two-year suspension for Assistant Professor Epherene with eligibility for review every quarter, and honestly, if we’re judging responsibility, shouldn’t the supervising professor also be questioned for negligence as well?!

Adrienne didn’t hesitate to lay the blame where it belonged—on Deculein, citing his negligence as supervising professor.