CHAPTER 27
“I’m not trying to scare you. I just thought I should give you a warning before I kill you, that’s all.”
“Oh, that’s a little scary.”
Luspel and I chuckled.
There was a ticklish feeling somewhere around my solar plexus. Like I’d become secret friends with an officer from an enemy nation?
Unintentionally, the stiffness left my voice, and it softened.
“If you answer one question, I’ll keep it a secret until I die.”
“…What is it?”
“Did anyone in your family… take their own life?”
‘You idiot, it’s because of you. I’m afraid the wounds I gave you will fester and rot until they finally kill you.’
I pressed gently on my puffy eyelids.
“It’s none of your business.”
Instead of prying, Luspel handed me a handkerchief, now frozen cold from the tears it had soaked.
“Just put that over your eyes for now. You wouldn’t want the butler to see you like this, would you?”
I didn’t refuse and took the handkerchief.
The chilling cold of it on my eyes was strangely comforting.
I leaned back slightly on the sofa.
“I’ll skim through the proposal while you rest. It’s the one on the table, right?”
“Yeah.”
The sound of pages turning followed.
“Hm… if I ask you questions, could you answer without looking at the proposal?”
“I wrote it myself. Of course I can.”
“Then, first question—why do we need this glass that adjusts temperature automatically?”
“It should say in there. I noted it’s for use in greenhouses.”
“I saw that, but I don’t get it. Up until now, we’ve used regular glass and had wizards cast spells. That worked fine. Do we really need to make magical glass?”
Sure, it worked fine—for you. If you needed magic, you used it. If you needed money, you spent it.
Inconvenience is only known to those who’ve actually experienced it.
“Using the old method requires massive maintenance costs.”
“It costs money to maintain?”
See? You really have no idea.
“You have to hire a wizard. And regularly.”
“Oh…”
“Spending a fortune just for temperature control is wasteful. That money should go where it’s needed more.”
“All this, just for one greenhouse? Isn’t that a bit much?”
“You’re only saying that because you’re thinking of it as just one greenhouse. Imagine developing temperature-regulating glass and making it commercially available. It could be used in any building that requires climate control magic.”
Luspel didn’t respond for quite a while.
‘Wait… is this too hard to make? If so, that’s bad news for me.’
I took off the handkerchief and sat up straight.
“Is it impossible?”
“Put the handkerchief back on.”
“It’s lukewarm now.”
“Want me to freeze it again?”
“Forget the handkerchief. Just tell me honestly—does it seem too difficult to make?”
“We’d need to experiment to know for sure… but it doesn’t seem too hard.”
He answered mildly and continued.
“Though, it will cost a lot. I could donate my talent and make the prototype for free. But actual production is another matter. Who knows how many failures we’d go through.”
“As long as it’s ready by the emperor’s birthday, the timeline’s not an issue. And I bet there’s plenty of budget.”
“How do you know about the budget?”
“They were planning to build a 10-meter-tall golden statue covered in gems, remember? They must have set aside a huge amount for that.”
“Oh, right. The statue…”
The emperor’s birthday comes every year.
Who knows what madness they’ll try next time? I’m planning to use up the entire budget this year.
So they won’t even whisper the word ‘statue’ again for the next decade.
“Anything else? Ask away if you’re curious.”
“This ‘sprinkler’—is that a magic device too?”
“That one will be super useful. It can be used in gardening, agriculture, even livestock. Sure, hiring a wizard would be easier… but not everyone can afford that.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make magical glass or sprinklers myself.
But I could create substitute magical devices.
With Luspel’s help, that is.
My proposal was full of such devices, and Luspel was mostly curious about those.
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a city square renovation plan? This doesn’t feel like a one-time proposal.”
“It is a one-time plan. We’re just taking advantage of the budget surplus to develop as many useful devices as we can. The beginning is the hardest. Once they’re made, spreading them will be quick.”
“…”
Luspel stared at me through his tousled hair.
“What?”
“It’s just… unexpected.”
“What is?”
“Never mind.”
He returned his gaze to the proposal.
“Self-powered device using solar energy—what’s this now?”
“You’ve already read that far?”
“I speed-read. So what is it? Seems like a solar-powered device, but how does it work?”
“Well, that one…”
We launched into a heated debate.
Most of it was about the feasibility of the magical devices I had designed.
He asked sharp questions, and I countered like I was convincing a client.
Whenever he backed off, I felt triumphant.
If Luspel’s suggestion was better than mine, I gladly revised the plan.
Before we knew it, it was 9 PM.
The proposal was nearly complete.
The core magical devices were all organized to be as easy to produce as possible.
Just a few tweaks left now.
And I’d have to recreate the tattered original document too.
‘Ugh… that one alone took me three days…’
But not tonight.
I was too exhausted to move. Let tomorrow-me handle it.
As I lay slumped over the desk, half asleep, Luspel handed me something.
“…What is it?”
“A new version of the proposal. I compiled everything we discussed.”
“…You rewrote the whole thing?”
“Yes.”
He’d been quietly working on something—so it was that? I hadn’t even asked him!
“Why did you do that? That was my job.”
“I just copied it onto clean paper. Check if I missed anything.”
“Hmph… well, I guess I’ll take a look.”
I cleared the desk of empty coffee cups and leftover dessert.
Laid out a clean sheet, placed the newly written proposal on top, and flipped to the first page.
‘Holy crap… this guy’s a genius.’
It wasn’t just a simple copy.
The upgraded proposal brought an involuntary smile to my face.
Is this how a professor feels with an extremely capable assistant—or slave? No, assistant.
“It’s cleaner than I expected. I don’t think I need to make any edits.”
“That’s good to hear.”
I carefully closed the new proposal.
Thanks to Luspel, the core parts were finished.
Even the revised proposal was now submission-ready.
‘Out of conscience, I should finish the rest myself, right?’
It is going to be submitted under my name, after all.
“Good work. I’ll take care of the rest myself.”
Luspel chuckled.
“You really are something else, Your Grace.”
“…Huh?”
“At first, you explained those devices just enough to spark my curiosity and then said you didn’t want to put in much effort. You knew that would make me burn with motivation, didn’t you?”
“…?”
What’s he talking about?
When I said I didn’t want to work hard, I meant it.
But then Luspel got more fired up than me, and I just got swept along.
He smiled and added:
“I’m not the type to quit halfway. I’ll help you through to the end.”
There’s definitely been some huge misunderstanding…
Still, I hugged the proposal he wrote and replied:
“If Professor Luspel insists, then I suppose I’ll allow it.”
“Leave the proposal as is. I’ll stop by again around this time tomorrow so we can finish it together.”
“Sure.”
Luspel left the study with a light step, completely different from when he entered.
“Did he like my proposal that much?”
Now that Luspel was so passionate, I started worrying about later.
‘No matter how hard he works, it’ll get rejected anyway… What if he’s disappointed? Should I tell him now?’
I looked at the space Luspel had left and shrugged.
“He just barely started getting his energy back. I’ll leave him be.”
No need to crush someone who’s finally finding their spark again.
