Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

19 – A Successful Bargain

There’s no time to dwell on it.

Given their aristocratic temperament, they certainly wouldn’t

Visit the tower this early in the morning.

No matter how much respect and admiration the frigid Lady Isabella might have for her mentor,

It was unlikely she would visit the magic tower at dawn.

Besides, there was no guarantee she’d even be going to the magic tower I intended to visit.

There were five in total, after all.

With that thought, I hurried out of the dormitory and

started running towards the magic tower.

“L..Lord! Your breakfast…”

I heard Ella calling after me, but

I trusted it couldn’t be too important and bolted out.

It then struck me that I’d left the scrolls I’d been working on all night on the desk, so

I went back inside, grabbed the scrolls, and took off running again.

“B..But, Lord! Your meal!”

I could hear Ella’s voice trailing me,

but she’d understand, given the circumstances.

The academy and the magic towers weren’t so far apart in distance, so

if one truly set their mind to running, you could arrive in under five minutes.

Even if it took five minutes, it would still be well before the time the nobles started to sluggishly emerge,

so surely a confrontation with Isabella would not occur.

Thinking so, I sped up my pace, with the determination to arrive as swiftly as possible.

And thus I hastened onward, towards the magic tower.

*

Meanwhile, Isabella was quite elated.

She’d received word that her mentor, who had a habit of disappearing somewhere abruptly,

was returning today.

Her mentor held a unique significance for her.

Having offered a paternal affection in place of her strict father, ever since she was young,

and, she was the one who taught her magic, which she loved more than anything, who helped her develop it, and reach new heights.

Even so, as pleased as Isabella was,

memories of something that happened long ago would cause her mood to plummet again.

The incident with Jennison, to be exact.

She’d been too arrogant about her own talent.

The original Isabella had loathed nobles who looked down on commoners.

She couldn’t even stand to see nobles who disregarded others as if they were inferior.

At the same time, she possessed a slight sense of superiority, thinking at least she wasn’t like that, that she was better than others.

But the reality was no different.

She, too, had looked down on Jennison, who lacked her talent,

and considered it a natural blessing for him to associate with her.

Because of such things, she had not only avoided Jennison ever since, but also

She began to be tormented by what she had done.

The confidence and poise she’d never lost to herself,

she could feel it slowly diminishing.

‘Ugh… why did I do that…’

Even when she tried to stop thinking, the thoughts kept resurfacing.

His face, so casually proposing with an agenda,

his pupils trembling at her cold rejection,

yet his expression without a single distorted line…

it kept irritating her heart.

But,

no matter how much she regretted, the past wouldn’t return.

He seemed to have already severed ties with her,

and she, too, couldn’t bear to lift her head in apology.

His past misdeeds were clearly wrong, but

the delusion that she might have caused him to become twisted

lingered in her mind.

‘…After the weekend… I have to apologize…’

Even if she couldn’t retrieve her lost poise, she thought,

maybe she could at least alleviate the guilt,

and she pondered how to apologize when she met him.

*

Finally, I’ve arrived.

Before me, this vast expanse of white.

A warm color that embraces everything, and yet,

a color of duality, somehow ruthless.

It soared high into the heavens, and

around it, mages in white robes were visible.

They all carried stacks of documents, thick enough to be theses, or

carried their staves in their hands as if they were swords.

Frankly, as soon as I entered the Magic Tower, the mages’ glares

focusing on me were incredibly unnerving.

I’d hardly ever had the chance to receive this much attention,

so I was truly immune to it.

Suppressing the nausea that went beyond mere discomfort,

I sought out the Magic Tower’s guide to get help with selling magical items.

She seemed to know me; upon seeing my face,

she frowned, but then, as if nothing had happened,

greeted me with a bright smile.

‘…A true professional…’

“Hello. What brings you here?”

“Came to sell magical wares.”

“..Magical wares, you say..?”

“Indeed. Scrolls.”

With that, I set the scrolls I had brought before him. The clerk seemed taken aback, and after asking me to wait, disappeared inside.

Perhaps ten minutes passed. The clerk who had greeted me returned, followed by a middle-aged man of pleasing appearance.

The middle-aged man looked first at me, then at the scrolls before me. Only then, seemingly convinced that *I* was the seller, did he take a seat and attempt conversation.

“Good day. I am Plon, administrator and mage of the White Magic Tower.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Jenison.”

“Let us get to the heart of the matter. Why have you brought these scrolls?”

Straight to the point, then.

I suppose it would seem suspicious, someone appearing with the express purpose of selling scrolls—difficult to create and even harder to mass produce.

Especially considering what I had done.

They likely suspect I have ulterior motives, but what can I do? I truly *did* come here to sell them.

“..I assure you, I’ve come solely to sell them.”

“You appear honest enough. However, there’s no reason for *us* to purchase these scrolls.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Jumping to conclusions? I hardly think we need to stock an item that is difficult to mass produce, expensive, and unlikely to generate a profit.”

He had a point.

Most items sold at the Magic Tower are quite popular. The quality is practically guaranteed by the Tower itself, and the very fact that they are sold here implies demand.

Therefore, there’s no need to bring in goods with high production costs and low mass production capabilities—burdensome items, so to speak.

But they are unaware.

“..What if I told you I could mass-produce them?”

“..Young master. Deceit is ill-advised in business dealings.”

“I could prove it’s no deceit.”

“..Jerry.”

“Yes!”

So, the clerk’s name was Jerry. Judging by his stiff posture, he seemed rather nervous.

“Fetch me a piece of paper.”

“..You require a single sheet, sir?”

“Indeed. One piece of paper will suffice.”

“Here you are.”

He accepted the paper from her, then turned his gaze upon me, his eyes slowly narrowing.

“With this paper, I would have you create a scroll of some kind, any kind at all.”

“..Any scroll, sir?”

“Yes. Anything will do. You have no more than ten minutes.”

“..Ten minutes..”

“Even if you find it insufficient, that cannot be helped.

For the sake of the parasol, this much time..”

“Five minutes.”

“..Pardon?”

“I will craft it for you within five minutes.”

His expression shifted, a clear incredulity dawning, and he frowned before speaking again.

“Very well. Should you complete it within five minutes, I will guarantee the contract.”

“However…”

“Should five minutes pass, you will not be able to simply walk away from this.”

His posturing, his implicit threat, struck me as rather amusing, but I betrayed no such sentiment.

He knows nothing of my talent, after all.

Having become known as a talentless fool, most have no interest in what talent, if any, I possess.

*Shwaaak*──

A light began to bloom from my fingertips.

The light shifted, taking on vibrant hues, and as my fingers moved against the paper, patterns began to etch themselves onto the scroll.

Lines and curves materialized, anchored by symbols representing basic magic.

Characters signifying amplified power.

Markings indicating the direction of its effect.

Symbols denoting duration.

With a single light, the patterns gradually took shape, and in less than four minutes, a scroll was complete.

And as I glanced around, I saw the receptionist and Flon, their faces etched with disbelief.

“Ha!”

I couldn’t help but find the scene both absurd and exhilarating,

and a chuckle escaped me.

*

“My apologies for doubting your abilities… Clearly…

at this level, mass production is indeed feasible.”

“S…so sorry!”

No matter what, seeing people older than myself

bow their heads so low felt uncomfortable.

I told them it was alright,

and we decided to return to discussing the deal.

“We deeply regret our discourtesy…

Would you still consider doing business with us?”

“I would.”

“T…Thank you!”

“In exchange, my share of the profits will be 70%, the Mage Tower’s, 30%.”

“W…What?!”

“Is that unacceptable?”

“You must realize that’s an extraordinarily large split…”

That much was certainly true.

The Mage Tower needed to profit as well, and

for a novice alchemist like myself to take 70%

couldn’t help but feel unsettling.

However…

“I am aware that the scrolls are priced quite high.

Even with only 30%, the Mage Tower will hardly be at a loss, will it?”

“Even so…”

“If you are unwilling, I suppose I’ll take my leave…”

“A…Agreed!!”

Seeing him hooked so easily,

I gave him a small, satisfied smile.

“An excellent choice.”

*

Having concluded the… *smooth* transaction, I exited the Mage Tower, and a

commotion immediately reached my ears.

I wasn’t sure why, but there was a large crowd of people gathered, and

the enthusiastic shouts of the female mages in particular were deafening.

Perhaps there was some kind of event. Let’s go investigate the cause.

At the very center of the clamor stood a certain figure…

The very person who established the foundation of the Empire’s magical studies, and

The Archmage, a 9th Circle mage who rivaled even the Chairman.

A figure of dread for the demonic hordes on the battlefield,

the dream incarnate for all aspiring mages.

Broad of shoulder,

possessing a height unbelievable for one versed in magic.

His hair, a stark, snowy white,

concealing a battlefield butcher beneath a kindly elder’s guise,

and a doting fool of a master to his cherished disciples.

The Great Sage. Prion Heibel, that was him.