We Are a Newlywed Couple Who Entered the Academy

Ten minutes past the scheduled start of the class, an elderly man entered. His white hair, the wisdom etched in his wrinkles, and his dignified demeanor gave off an impression of someone who had accumulated years of knowledge and experience. His appearance was the very definition of a .

The classroom was rather chaotic. It was understandable, as the professor was late on the first day. Perhaps there was an unavoidable circumstance.

The professor surveyed the room, his gaze lingering here and there, eventually pausing briefly on me before moving on. He then walked to the podium, picked up a piece of chalk, and began writing something on the board without uttering a word.

Tap, tap, tap.

[Ronan Iotophos, Arcoa B-4401, AWB-331301]

His handwriting was hardly legible, but that was what he wrote on the board.

“Pleasure to meet you all. My name is Ronan Iotophos. The next thing I wrote is my lab address, and the last one is my Long-pen number. Oh, and by the way, I’m fifty-five this year. Retirement is just around the corner.”

The students hurriedly took out their pens and notebooks to jot down the address, despite the oddly irrelevant and hard-to-believe information.

Long-pen, huh. Speaking of which, I still hadn’t set one up after moving into my new home. Maybe I would go shopping with Venisha after this.

“My specialty is buffer theory and phase analysis, though most of you won’t need to know that.”

Moving leisurely, reminiscent of a sloth, he set the thick book he was holding onto the podium. The dull thud echoed throughout the room.

“ is the name of a great mage from the past. In fact, most of the buildings here in the are named after great mages or wise men.”

His chuckle, which followed, was peculiar and unsettling.

“But do any of you know what a mage actually does?”

Professor Ronan’s sharp gaze swept across the classroom, so piercing it even made the students sitting in the back flinch.

“If any of you came here with fanciful notions of becoming a mage who can cast spells with a wave of your hand like in fairy tales… you’d better leave the classroom immediately.”

His words were harsh. Perhaps it was his age? The room was filled with a stifling atmosphere.

“Well, I suppose none of you are that foolish. As you all know, mages are not the whimsical characters you see in fairy tales. Historically, mages are individuals who study and research magic.”

Despite his use of the word , directed at certain students who visibly squirmed, Professor Ronan didn’t elaborate further and continued.

“Of course, there are those who can actually use magic. Like those brutes from the Faculty of Combat over in the eastern plaza. They call themselves and program the spells we mages research and develop into scrolls, which they execute using minimal commands.”

This was new to me as well. So, the term didn’t refer to someone who used magic?

“On the other hand, we mages delve into the principles and study them. This tower — ah, I keep slipping into old terminology; forgive an old man’s habits — this faculty of magic is dedicated to nurturing who devote themselves to these theories and studies. Not those rotten scoundrels who call themselves magic practitioners.”

I see. So, the Faculty of Combat’s subdivision for magic was for those who actually magic, while this place was for studying its theory.

… um, did I come to the wrong place?

“Professor, if you understand the principles of magic thoroughly, isn’t it possible to use magic without a scroll?”

Someone in the distance raised his hand courageously and asked. Professor Ronan turned to him with a smile.

The student’s face turned red with embarrassment.

“I find it hard to believe you passed the entrance exam. Are you perhaps a prodigy capable of using magic? If so, please, by all means, demonstrate your magnificent abilities to this old man.”

“… I’m sorry.”

Sympathetic glances from other students were directed at the humiliated questioner. Clearly, it wasn’t wise to draw the professor’s attention.

“Well, theoretically, it’s not impossible. If you were a genius capable of thinking in the Arcoa inner space atop the Cetal phase plane and could instantly process the torrent of calculations that ensue. Are you some kind of human supercomputer? At least with my calculator—”

“There are individuals who can do that, though.”

Professor Ronan’s scathing remarks were interrupted by a clear, resonant voice. The students, startled, all turned their heads to the source of the voice.

The student sitting at the frontmost window seat with sky-blue hair interrupted the professor mid-sentence, showing no hint of hesitation.

This was quite impressive, especially after seeing the previous student being scolded so harshly. I didn’t think I could ever do something like that.

“……”

Contrary to expectations of a fiery outburst or a biting, icy response, Professor Ronan regarded the questioning student with a surprisingly calm, or perhaps troubled, gaze.

“… you’re right. There is one person.”

Professor Ronan readily admitted.

“The Archmage, Groseff. That man could do it.”

At his words, an unspoken atmosphere spread among the students. Agreement, acknowledgment, understanding, or perhaps resignation. Groseff, huh? It felt like I’d heard that name somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place it. In any case, this made me feel a bit sorry for the student who got scolded earlier.

“But that is an exceedingly rare exception. I assure you, aside from him, no one else…”

“Professor, isn’t there someone else~?”

A high and clear voice interrupted him this time. Professor Ronan turned his head toward the offender who had interrupted him again. His sharp gaze, which seemed almost dagger-like, softened with a tinge of exasperation when he saw who it was.

This time, it was a female student. Her twin ponytails made her look a bit younger than the rest, but her striking appearance stood out even more than her youthful features.

It was as if a divine hand had split her down the middle and painted each half in contrasting colors.

To her right auburn hair and jet-black eyes. To her left pink hair and icy white eyes. Despite the stark contrast, her symmetrical features made for a strangely harmonious appearance.

“… it’s you this time, Kara McKellicia.”

She widened her eyes in surprise. Judging by her reaction, seemed to be her name.

“Alright, then. Who are you referring to? Other than Groseff, I haven’t seen anyone like that.”

“… not a person.”

Her lively tone shifted slightly, her voice lowering after being addressed. Was she flustered?

“Not a person?”

“… wouldn’t it be possible for a dragon?”

At that, the hopeful glint in Professor Ronan’s eyes dimmed slightly. Some students around the room couldn’t stifle their chuckles.

“A dragon. You must mean the kind that often appears in modern fairy tales or novels, the ones some claim might have existed about 300 years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s possible. If such a thing actually existed.”

The professor’s comment drew laughter from the students. Kara’s face turned slightly red, much like the first student who had spoken earlier.

“Alright then, let me explain why magic can’t be used instantaneously. First and foremost, it’s due to the amount of computation involved. Pre-programming a scroll and simply providing the input is a completely different story from crafting the entire code from scratch in real time. And secondly.”

He paused for a moment, took a breath, then stepped onto the podium to write something on the chalkboard.

— Distance (Metric).

“This concept of distance (metric) is fundamentally different from human perception. More specifically, it’s far more multidimensional and complex than the Euclidean metric humans typically perceive. There are two key factors behind this.”

He wrote something else on the board.

— Light, Time, Gravity.

“Ah, my apologies. It seems there are three. Although light and time are often treated as a single principle, so one could argue it’s just two. We’ll cover this in more detail as the course progresses, but for now, know that these three factors separate actual space from human perception. For example, you, there.”

The professor, who had been speaking gently, suddenly pointed at someone. His finger aimed somewhere far.

No one answered.

“Are you mute?”

“Oh, no! I mean, yes! No, sir!”

To my disbelief, I was the one being addressed. My ridiculous response caused laughter to ripple through the classroom.

“Let me ask you this. The length of this piece of chalk I’m holding is 9.5mn. It’s worn down a bit, but that should be close enough. This is how it appears to the human eye when perceiving space as Euclidean. Now, what do you think the actual distance between the ends of this chalk is, calculated using the Arcoa inner product and following the geodesic?”

His words were dense with technical jargon. The other students’ stares bore into me as I stood under the spotlight. Just a moment ago, I had been part of the audience, empathizing with others. Now, the roles were reversed.

Although I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking because there were many unfamiliar terminologies mixed in, it seemed he wanted the between the ends of the chalk.

Should I answer based on what I perceive, or what he perceived?

Knowing this meticulous professor, it was probably the latter.

“I would estimate about 24.1232mn.”