Genius Wizard Conceals His Origins

The Frauzen Federal University of Magic Auchlimé Research Institute Spring Academic Conference.

Those with a knack for naming things might shake their heads and say, “Who would ever call it by that tedious name?” But the massive seminar room in Research Building 1 of the Federal University of Magic was packed with people from early morning.

The crowd, easily numbering in the hundreds, was comprised entirely of magic scholars.

Regrettably, pure academic fervor and humanitarian passion alone cannot draw such a grand turnout.

The academic world is a small society, and conferences are gatherings of people belonging to that society.

What they do when they gather is predetermined.

A researcher in Klaus Müller’s Research Lab, Doctoral student Eva Torricelli folded her arms in the least arrogant posture possible and clicked her tongue. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

Then, she patted the shoulder of her senior from the lab.

“It’s started again. Building connections, exchanging greetings… Shouldn’t we change the name of this event from conference to social gathering?”

“A third-year doctoral student sure has a lot to say.”

“Don’t you think people are quite multifaceted, senior?”

“It’s okay to curse during work, but please refrain from philosophical inquiries. It’s quite rude. Didn’t they teach you that at school?”

“They didn’t.”

“The Federation’s education system still has a long way to go.”

Johannes Born laughed heartily – as humbly as possible.

Amidst the laughter bursting out chaotically inside and outside the large seminar room, these two alone were competing to see who could make better sophistry with rather pessimistic expressions.

This was because they could clearly see through the ulterior motives of those coming to give them “greetings.”

Johannes put on an artificial smile.

“As long as Professor Müller discourages socializing, it’s inevitable that we’ll only meet hypocrites. What can we do? After all, networking is the way to survive long in the academe.”

“It’s amazing that in the midst of all this, they don’t forget to secretly look down on us who have no particular achievements.”

“Well, if it bothers you, we should just work harder. More importantly…”

Suddenly, Johannes looked around the seminar room.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. It just seemed like the protagonist was missing.”

Protagonist.

Johannes’s attitude in uttering that word was hardly friendly, even as a mere pleasantry.

In a jealousy-ridden society, being the center of attention means one of two things.

Either they’re overwhelmingly exceptional, or they’re a troublemaker.

And today’s protagonist possessed both qualities simultaneously.

Eva Torricelli nodded lightly and then opened the booklet she had received.

It was a simple schedule of the day’s presentations, and among them, the last in the order undoubtedly caught the eye.

[ Eugene Oslo, Ph.D. ]

[ Outline of a Generalized Theory of Relativity ]

“…”

It wasn’t just the two lab colleagues who were focusing on the last item.

Almost everyone attending the conference knew that name.

There was no special reason. It was simply because no magic scholar had ever been featured prominently in newspapers twice in such a short period before.

The announcement of his origins.

And the accident.

Before even forming an opinion about him, one couldn’t help but be interested.

Therefore, most of the scholars gathered in the seminar room were constantly looking around, pretending not to. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

Of course, it’s not easy to find one person in a crowd, especially among those with lofty titles like doctor or professor, almost suffocating in the process.

Those who knew a bit more about the situation looked for a soldier.

Quite a few had witnessed Eugene Oslo being accompanied by a supervising soldier before the accident.

Soon, they all came to the same conclusion.

“…Is he absent?”

A strand of doubt turned into certainty when he wasn’t spotted even after the conference began.

And before long, it became a topic of gossip.

“I’ve heard about the accident. Was that Imperial the doctoral student who published the paper on the photoelectric effect?”

“Yes. I heard he became paraplegic.” *1

“I heard it was just one leg.”

“Isn’t it all the same? Then he should come in a wheelchair. It seems even someone brazen enough to flaunt gray hair in the heart of the Federation is too embarrassed for a wheelchair.”

“Anyone want to bet? I’ll put 30 pounds on him not showing up.”

A chain of whispers.

In the spacious but enclosed seminar room, quiet despite the crowd, whispering was practically the same as shouting out loud.

A gentle wave of mockery rippled through the entire seminar room.

The wave of derision mysteriously subsided around Klaus Müller, who sat in a corner like a grand reef.

Whether Eva Torricelli stuck out her tongue at this gloominess or not, the presentation of the second to last speaker finally concluded.

By this point, even the senior scholars found it difficult to keep their mouths shut.

“General relativity, eh? Although he’s labeled it as an outline, I’m somewhat looking forward to seeing what kind of theory he’s going to present this time.”

“My friend, have you already forgotten the war?”

“That was 13 years ago. Scholars should speak through their academic work.”

“First of all, the presenter needs to show up…”

However, there was no sign of a wheelchair or a soldier anywhere.

Just as the seminar room was about to erupt into commotion…

Someone stood up.

A man of unremarkable appearance.

An old coat and shirt, pants made of plain fabric. Apart from the leather glove on his right hand and a hat pulled low, there was nothing noteworthy about the man, and his standing up didn’t attract much attention amidst the commotion.

“…Hm?”

But things changed when the man started walking towards the podium.

Silence.

People stared blankly at the man moving without any sense of urgency, but the scholars from the Federal University of Magic began to widen their eyes one by one.

The familiar appearance and build were recognizable.

By the time the man climbed onto the podium, everyone was watching him with bated breath.

Is that the Imperial in question?

He walked perfectly fine, let alone needing a wheelchair.

And when the man took off his hat and placed it on the podium, everyone closed their mouths.

Vivid gray hair. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

It was unmistakably the hair color of an Imperial.

Even when a hundred or so people close their mouths to maintain silence, it becomes noisy when done simultaneously. Breaking through the noisy silence, the presenter approached the front of the podium.

“I am Dr. Eugene Oslo.”

“Although I’d heard rumors, this is my first time seeing him in person. He really is an Imperial. An Imperial that got past the Gate of Knowledge…”

“Professor. Let’s listen to the presentation first. After all, we’re supposed to be scholars. I think it’s enough to doubt the validity of the theory.”

“You’re right. Ah, they’re distributing materials over there.”

“…”

“I don’t know much about this, but have you read his previous papers?”

“Huh? Of course. There are also supplementary materials about it here.”

“Let me borrow that for a moment.”

“…”

“What was that fellow’s name again?”

When the explanation of the paper began, all hundred of the audience members were staring at the presenter’s hair instead of his fingertips.

The color of barbarism.

Distinctly different from the graying hair of the elderly, it was the mark of Imperial origin.

But as the presentation progressed, their gazes shifted downward.

The blackboard was filled with intricate formulas that even renowned doctors and professors could barely understand half of.

The leather gloves unsuited for the season, and the reason why he, presumably right-handed, held the chalk with his left hand…

Even the slightly awkward movement of his right leg, is noticeable upon close inspection.

No one realized that this was an intentional disharmony, a kind of disguise meant to make the audience figure it out on their own.

They only reaffirmed one fact. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

—He really did get into an accident. Yet he came back perfectly fine.

Eventually, instead of staring at one spot, they adjusted their postures.

Because a remarkable era was unfolding before their eyes.

—Who is he?

—It must have been a huge accident, enough to cause an explosion heard throughout the entire University of Magic.

—You know, that madman Benjamin Oslo. His adopted son.

—…Is it really possible for a second-year doctoral student to devise this theory?

—What’s his relationship with Louise Ehrlich for her name to be mentioned alongside his?

—He rose from the ashes with a research topic. Fittingly, his hair is also ash-colored.

—What was his name again?

—Eugene Oslo.

“…That concludes my presentation. I will now take questions in order.”

Eugene Oslo. The Ashen Magic Scholar.

By the time the three-hour-long explanation ended, every conference attendee had etched that name deep in their minds.

No matter how well-crafted a theater stage may be, there’s always a shabby backside to it.

The enthusiastic audience, the audience giving a standing ovation, and even the cynical audience don’t know what’s behind the stage. Only the actor knows.

I, having stepped down from the stage, had to face the backside of this farce.

Johannes Born finally burst into laughter.

“Pfft. What? The Ashen Magic Scholar? BWAHAHAHAHA!”

“I think you’ve laughed enough, senior.”

“Haha, heh. How can I not laugh, heh-heh.”

I rubbed my forehead with my left hand.

Research Building 3, Room 402.

I was briefly surprised that the place I arrived at, following Klaus Müller’s call after the barrage of questions ended, was my old research lab.

When the lab colleague waiting there erupted in grand laughter, even I couldn’t help but lose my composure.

Because I sympathized with Johannes’s laughter.

What on earth is the Ashen Magic Scholar?

After putting on a bit of a farce followed by a paper presentation, the academic world should have clearly remembered my name.

I had faithfully carried out the instructions from the Federation’s higher-ups, but who would have thought such a strange nickname would stick?

Fortunately, Johannes’s burst of laughter didn’t last long.

Click— 

With the sound of the doorknob turning, Professor Müller entered the lab.

Naturally, his gaze was directed at Johannes.

“You’ve arrived, Professor?”

“There’s no use trying to weasel out of it.”

“…”

“You aim to complete your paper before the next conference.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Torricelli. You too.”

“Yep.”

After silencing Eva Torricelli, who had been laughing along next to him, Professor Müller gestured to me.

It meant to come to his office.

Room 401.

“Sit down.”

“…Excuse me.”

Left alone with Professor Müller in his office, I raised my head and met his gaze.

As always, the air that seemed to sink down pressed on my shoulders. But if you ask if it was pressure, it wasn’t. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

It should be described as closer to an awkward embrace.

“I see your rehabilitation has ended well.”

“Yes. Thanks to your daughter’s help.”

“What do you plan to do from now on?”

An ambiguous question flew at me.

What to do from now on…

There’s a lot to think about. Of course, I have to think of how to develop the incomplete paper, and it will take considerable time for negotiations between the Federation and the Empire to improve.

Negotiations. 

It sounds good, but it’s close to conducting a dispute over vested interests with language and documents instead of guns and swords.

When discussing agendas like autonomy rights, diplomatic rights, and magic permissions, it won’t end at the level of verbal arguments.

But.

That’s not my domain.

After adjusting my sitting posture slightly, I opened my mouth quietly.

“I’m a magic scholar, aren’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

Despite the cool response, I didn’t miss Professor Müller’s lips curling up slightly.

“I should return to the life of a humble wage earner. Repeating the cycle of commuting and taking care of precious people. That kind of daily life.”

“I trust that my daughter is included among those precious people.”

“Of, of course.”

“A researcher’s salary will be far from enough to support a household. I’ll put in a recommendation letter for a professorship soon, so do your best. In exchange, I’ll leave it to you to arrange a meeting between both families.”

“…Pardon?”

“Our business is concluded. You should head home now.”

The feeling of being outmaneuvered lasted only a moment.

I smiled slightly.

How long had I waited for this moment?

The bright full moon illuminated the late spring night sky.

It was a golden alarm clock announcing the time to clock out from the extraordinary.

T/N

Paraplegia (paraplegic when referring to a person) is a term used to describe the inability to voluntarily move the lower parts of the body.