ISMFF58

Chapter 58

Malice (5)

It hadn’t been that long since she had first started working, yet somehow, the moments of doing nothing had already begun to make her uneasy.

So they were right when they said humans adapt to anything…

She had spent half her life practically bedridden, and after that, had enjoyed a comfortable life as a lady of noble birth, attending the Royal Academy.

And yet… here she was, accustomed to farm work, stirring potion cauldrons all day while covered in dust. Now, just sitting still made her hands itch.

Temia restlessly darted her eyes around, taking in the carved decorations nearby.

…Fire motifs here too?

She realized that the decorations all shared a certain consistency. Lery, noticing her gaze, turned to look in the same direction.

“There are a lot of flame-shaped patterns and ornaments here, aren’t there? And they’re all different.”

“Fire is the very origin of a mage! You do know that the birth of a mage is accompanied by ignition, right?”

“Of course—everyone knows that.”

“Then you might also know this—flames don’t just represent the nature of one’s magic, but also the extent of one’s innate ability. In a way, a mage’s stats are determined from birth. That’s why each person’s flame is unique—you’ll rarely find two alike.”

Hearing Lery’s explanation made the meaning of the decorations click for Temia. The colored carvings each bore different hues, and not a single flame was shaped the same. Which made her wonder—if Lowell was a mage acknowledged by all as extraordinary, what would his flame look like…?

—He had immense skill and talent, so his flame was huge. And unlike others, it burned for an unusually long time.

Would it have been grand and beautiful?
That thought was quickly followed by doubt—could a great fire ever truly be beautiful? After all, throughout history, great fires had always been seen as disasters, devouring everything in their path.

Once she started down that line of thought, her mind inevitably returned to the mage still holed up in his room.

Still not coming out… he didn’t collapse in there, did he?

After pacing in front of the door for some time, Temia exchanged a silent glance with Lery, then gently knocked on the door and called out.

“Hey, aren’t you staying in there too long? You’ve been working non-stop… is there anything I can help with?”

Countless scenarios flashed through her mind. What if, like last time, he was lying unresponsive? It hadn’t been that long since then, after all…

Fortunately, the reply came before her worries deepened.

“Since I’ve taken this request, I’d rather not be embarrassed by failing it. I’m more capable than I look—this is nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant… I’m worried about you! If this weren’t such an urgent situation, I would’ve dragged you out again.”

“Ah, that’s what you mean? In that case, don’t worry. I don’t need help with anything—except maybe if you could just bring me some food. That’s all for now.”

“Fine. But if there’s anything I can help with, you’d better tell me!”

She said that, but she couldn’t bring herself to simply carry in the food the servants had left outside his door. After all, she hadn’t become Lowell’s assistant just to do that.

Once she had made up her mind, acting was easy.
She grabbed the prepared meal, threw the door open without knocking, and marched inside.

“Lowell! Stop and take a break.”

“Temia? You could’ve just left it at the door.”

“Then you’d just work through the night again, wouldn’t you? Stopping you from doing that is part of my duty as your assistant.”

She shoved the tray toward him and pushed him into a chair. He looked up at her in confusion, but she ignored it and issued a stern order.

“You’re not working again until you finish eating! I can handle some of the prep work.”

“I’m not about to make a non-mage read through magic texts.”

“Are you underestimating me? You chose me yourself!”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what’s the point of having an assistant?! Move!”

Rolling up her sleeves, Temia began sorting through the lecture materials. She gathered the books Lowell had laid out, summarized them, and labeled them neatly.

She didn’t understand the magical theory, but she could read, and her time working in a workshop meant she recognized quite a few ingredient names.

Seeing this, Lowell’s lips curved ever so slightly. He ate while quietly watching her work.

Meanwhile, Temia busied herself with organizing overturned books and reading through the practical magic texts. Thanks to her, Lowell was able to enjoy a rare moment of complete rest.

Two days passed quickly, and the day of the lecture arrived.

For the students in Advanced Potion Making II, an announcement had gone out that the class would be conducted by a specially invited guest professor. While such things weren’t unheard of at the Academy, they weren’t exactly common either—especially in a mage’s academy.

“I heard he’s really young—and apparently, the headmaster’s direct disciple.”

“The headmaster’s got loads of disciples. And ‘young’ for a professor isn’t that young.”

“True. I just hope he’s the type to give generous grades…”

Without more than vague details to go on, students speculated wildly—maybe it was a long-retired royal court mage, or a current mage official.
In a place where endless assignments and insane course pacing wore students down daily, gossip about a new professor was a welcome diversion.

For three days, rumors about the guest lecturer passed from mouth to mouth. As far as the students were concerned, anything that wasn’t extra make-up work was worth welcoming.

What they didn’t know was that the new guest professor would be the strangest instructor they had ever seen.

Lowell and Temia arrived at the lecture hall about thirty minutes early, as this was his first—and only—class here.

Lery was left behind in the room, much to Temia’s concern. She kept glancing back, but Lery had cheerfully waved them off.

Once in the lecture hall, however, a buried sense of unease suddenly crept up on Temia.

“Use magic to bring good to the world.”

The Academy’s motto, carved high into the ceiling, caught her eye. Perhaps Lowell was putting his talent to use for something productive and beneficial.

But knowing his usual behavior, worry was the only thing she felt.

My own first impression of him was one of the worst possible…

Lowell was indeed a near-genius, but teaching was a completely different skill. And given that he was stepping in midway through the course, there was every reason to fear things might go wrong. His way of communicating was… unconventional, to say the least.

He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, his expression cool and drained of any trace of a smile. The faint veins around his eyes spoke of sleepless nights spent preparing. For all his reluctance, he had clearly put in the effort.

At times like this, he really seems like a different person…

While he murmured to himself, flipping through his notes, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the hallway.

The door opened, and for a moment the students at the threshold hesitated. Temia, recovering first, waved them in.

“You’re here for Advanced Potion Making II, right? Come in!”

“Ah, y-yes… hello.”

“We still have a little time before starting. Here are some reference materials—please take one each.”

She gestured toward the neatly prepared stacks she’d arranged with extra copies just in case. Students collected the handouts and began taking their seats, sneaking curious glances at the unfamiliar professor.

“So that’s him. Wow… he is young.”

“I heard he skipped grades and graduated early—so he’s not much older than us.”

“Think he’s any good? I had a question I wanted to ask during the practical today…”

“Well, he’s a professor, so I guess you can. If not, you can always try again later.”

Some, being closer to graduation, focused seriously on the lecture. Others were more interested in gossip.

“Apparently, he sat in on another class the other day—Professor Bruce’s, I think?”

“Really? Why would a professor do that?”

“No clue. But I heard Professor Bruce was not happy about it. Maybe they don’t get along?”

“That guy is kind of eccentric. Never ends class early.”

“Do you think they fought?”

“He’s a bit intimidating… but he’s handsome, right?”

“Yeah. Surprised there aren’t more rumors about him in the noble social circles.”

They kept sneaking glances at Lowell, who was checking the attendance sheet with that same impassive, slightly sharp expression—yet even from afar, his refined features were impossible to miss. At least he was more pleasant to look at than their usual lecturers.

Soon, it was time to begin. Lowell quickly scanned the room, nodded, and closed the door himself. Temia made sure no one had missed a handout.