Chapter 57:
Malice (4)
“Pardon? I haven’t heard anything about a new professor coming in. Who are you referring to…?”
“Who else? If we’re talking about a capable outsider, there’s only one. In fact, Professor Hogan mentioned it when he arrived.”
All eyes in the faculty meeting room turned in one direction, curiosity piqued over this mysterious “capable outsider.”
Hogan, who had just been briefed on the earlier discussion and was nodding along, soon realized the meaning behind the stares—his face instantly froze in disbelief.
“Dean… you can’t be serious. If you mean the person I just mentioned… you’re talking about that Lowell, aren’t you? Not someone else with the same name? You all still remember what kind of student he was, right?”
A tense silence settled among the professors.
Sweat trickled down a few faces as they exchanged uneasy glances. At last, one of them raised a hesitant hand and spoke in a trembling voice.
“The… Lowell you mean, that wouldn’t happen to be the one I’m thinking of, would it? Surely you mean someone else who just shares the name…?”
“No, it’s exactly the man you’re thinking of—the second son of Count Treia.”
“Absolutely not! Yes, he may be an excellent magician, but teaching is not something one can do simply by being smart. Besides, didn’t he graduate and then vanish without a trace, doing nothing all this time?”
“He hasn’t been idle, so I can guarantee his skills haven’t rusted. And he already completed teacher certification back then. He could have easily become a magic tutor for princes and princesses. Isn’t that perfect?”
‘Perfect, my foot—!!!’
The dean stroked his beard with pride, but every professor in the room thought the same thing: Of all the qualities he had, why on earth did anyone think his temperament suited teaching?
Knowledge alone was not enough for the job. But, as none of them dared contradict the head of the academy to his face, they kept their thoughts to themselves.
A new professor, unable to follow the flow of the conversation, nudged the colleague beside him and whispered:
“What kind of person is he for everyone to react like this? I mean, most magicians don’t have great personalities, so is it really that unusual?”
“That’s a bit of a prejudiced thing to say… though I can’t exactly deny it. But yes, even among magicians, for someone to be famous for having a foul temper—it takes a special kind.”
Thanks to the others’ familiarity with Lowell’s reputation, the new professor soon got his answer.
“You know Terium Academy draws magicians from across the continent, right? We’ve seen our fair share of eccentric students. But Lowell? He was one of the worst troublemakers we’ve ever had.”
“A troublemaker? Then why would the dean give him a teaching post?”
“Because he’s the only magician in our history to be rated at the highest-grade magic circle. Brilliant in both theory and practice. But…”
“But?”
“…It’s hard to describe. He’s polite and manages to get under your skin at the same time. Talks back in a way that grates on you. Back then, several of us developed chronic stomach aches.”
The explanation alone was enough to make faces pale, but then came the kicker:
“You know Professor Bruce’s hair loss? Guess who caused it.”
“…No way.”
“Exactly that way.”
“Oof… Thank goodness he won’t be my student.”
“Yes. We’re living in blessed times.”
The two professors exchanged sighs of relief—until the newcomer asked one more question.
“So… is it confirmed that Lowell is taking the job? Has he even agreed yet?”
Everyone fell silent at once, suddenly realizing the obvious: no one had actually asked him yet. After an awkward pause, the dean cleared his throat.
“I’ll persuade him. If he accepts, no one will object. Time is short.”
Later, in Lowell’s presence:
“So, you want me to give a lecture on magic potions?”
“Are your ears rotting? You’re too young for that to be happening.”
“I hear just fine—that’s the problem. I keep hearing strange things I’m sure I’m not old enough to hallucinate.”
“You have the qualifications. The Founding Festival is over, so you’ve no urgent work at your workshop. What’s the problem? I’m not asking you to start today—you’ve got two whole days to prepare!”
“And that’s supposed to make me say yes?”
Lowell tilted his head, eyes round with feigned innocence—the very picture of infuriating smugness.
The dean, resisting the urge to smack him, reminded himself who really needed the other here.
He took a deep breath and made an offer.
“…Help us this time, and I’ll give you a one-year extension on your next thesis deadline. Payment will be generous.”
That made Lowell pause. Keeping up with his current thesis schedule was driving him insane—extra time would mean more focus for his private research and even some leisure.
But Lowell, shameless as ever, didn’t stop there.
“Payment in one lump sum, three times the normal rate. Only fair, given you’re asking me to prepare a lecture in two days.”
“That… I’ll have to check the budget.”
“If the academy’s budget is short, you can cover it personally. Didn’t you brag about striking gold with that mine last month? And I’ll need accommodations—book me one of the VIP suites on campus. They’re vacant this time of year, aren’t they?”
“You brat! Those are for guests of royal status!”
“And they’ll rot unused if no one stays there. There’s no actual rule against it, right? Anyway, if you don’t agree, I’ll just go buy a train ticket home.”
When Lowell made to leave—dragging Temia with him—the dean finally snapped.
“Quiet! Fine—it’ll be announced as a special lecture by a visiting professor. And if it’s not the best lecture ever, I’ll twist your nose off!”
And so, Lowell accepted. He was immediately shown to his quarters—an opulent VIP suite taking up an entire floor, with at least ten rooms.
Temia thought it excessive for a few days’ stay, but Lowell didn’t bat an eye.
“We’re entitled to this—might as well enjoy it. Pick any room you like, I’ll take this one near the entrance.”
Temia stood staring at his closed door afterward, thoughts swirling.
‘He knows his way around here better than I expected… If only he had a shred of likeability to match his other qualities.’
Sure enough, the accommodations were as comfortable as promised, and Temia, now effectively a guest, had little to do. She was glad to have time to observe the magician—
until he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out.
“Lerry, has Lowell left his room since yesterday? I’m not imagining things, right?”
“No… you’re not. I was nearby all night. Aside from putting out his used dishes, he hasn’t moved.”
“I suppose those rooms have everything he needs, but still…”
They sighed in unison. Logic said there was no danger, but worry gnawed at them.
‘Worry? No… I’m just making sure he doesn’t ruin his condition before the lecture. That’s all.’
Lowell was known to vanish into his workshop for days when deep in research, emerging only when satisfied—pale and exhausted.
But this was different: a lecture had a fixed date.
“Two days really isn’t enough, is it? Preparing a lecture at such short notice can’t be easy.”
“Exactly. The master doesn’t like teaching—only got the certificate because the dean badgered him, saying he wouldn’t graduate otherwise.”
“Hard to imagine. Teaching needs patience more than anything.”
“But he’s a perfectionist—he’ll do the job well whether he likes it or not.”
Still, it was all guesswork without the man himself appearing. In the end, Temia gave up on speculation and distracted herself by hugging Lerry and rubbing his fur.
