40 – Direction
What adults, who easily throw out phrases like “the world is not a fairytale” with a grandiose tone, often miss is the fact that children already know that the world is not a fairytale.
Just as adults naturally come to understand this as they enter society, children also come to know it.
Children see it.
At home, at school, on the streets.
From their parents, teachers, passers-by.
They see that being kind is not enough to succeed, and that there are countless cases where no matter how hard they try, they don’t receive any rewards, and even those who are unlucky end up in ruin.
They see it with those desolate eyes.
Mature children, as well as those who grow while preserving their innocence, often come to realize on their own when they graduate from school.
That the world is woven through various connections.
And presumably.
The brown-haired female student in front of me seemed to be the greatest victim of that meager advice.
It was evident from the awkward expressions of students surrounding her on the first day of school.
“….”
Our eyes met.
Recognizing her wasn’t difficult.
Not only because she was a person I had just seen this morning, but also because she was quite distinctive.
It wasn’t due to commonplace reasons like her hair flowing like a stream or her beauty worthy of a nineteen-year-old turning back.
It was the wheeled chair. In other words, a wheelchair.
As soon as I saw it, thoughts crossed my mind involuntarily.
She smiled at me. It was strange. Despite her clearly youthful appearance, the unnamed female student’s smile had a captivating charm.
Surely, that smile alone could melt the hearts of countless people.
However.
Instinctively, I furrowed my brow.
I could not be deceived since I had already experienced it once in the morning.
That wasn’t a smile.
Perhaps it should be seen as the calculated movement of facial muscles or mechanical actions. Then, I realized and sighed, lowering my face.
No matter how reflexive he was, he responded by grimacing at the smiling face.
Sure enough.
The smile vanished from the female student’s expression.
“……”
“……”
In a moment only they could understand, a coldness passed between them.
Soon after, thanks to the intruder entering the classroom, the momentary silence was broken.
“Oh… I’m a bit late, aren’t I? Well then, let’s start the lecture quickly.”
It was the professor.
*
[Understanding Literary Genres].
It didn’t take much time to realize the essence of this lecture.
It was said to bring comfort to students overwhelmed by the difficulty of magical studies.
And it was true.
It was truly a lecture with no substance.
Looking at the lecture title, one might have expected a brilliant insight traversing literary genres such as poetry, novels, and plays.
“So… where was I?”
The balding old professor had a not-so-great memory.
Along with his memory, it was difficult to say that his teaching ability was good.
There was a memory of hearing from Benjamin that a professor’s main job is not lecturing. Finally, I could understand what that meant.
From Noble mtl dot com
Thirty minutes after the lecture began.
During that time, as the professor repeated “Where did I stop?” twice and the story meandered off course three times, the students’ concentration hit rock bottom.
Then, students other than the professor began to quietly chatter.
It was an enjoyable and lively conversation.
Wouldn’t it be more interesting than dissecting the ancient form with no apparent pairing?
Students who seemed to be from the same school began whispering and sharing stories. It was clearly visible from my seat at the almost back of the auditorium.
I quietly began to eavesdrop on their whispers.
Well, what could I do? My only friend is probably lying on the grass, soaking up the sun by now, muttering that it’s okay to skip a boring literature lecture on the first day.
To alleviate the boredom, I had to resort to eavesdropping on other people’s conversations.
―Tired.
―Achieved the third ‘Where did I stop?’
―Where was the cafeteria?
Half of the chit-chat was just random stories, while the other half was not.
As usual with students, it was about another student.
If there was a slight twist, it was that the subject of speculation going up and down in conversations was not me.
―Who’s that girl?
―The professor’s daughter.
―Oh… so that’s why they stick together like that.
―Is she uncomfortable? Why is she in a wheelchair?
Perhaps because there was someone in the classroom much more noticeable than me, the conversation naturally turned towards her.
I understood. It’s because a beautiful female student in a wheelchair is a much more interesting conversation topic than a gray-haired chief.
There’s nothing else to do. I continued to open my ears.
The name of the brown-haired female student is Julia Muller.
She had various other characteristics as well.
The daughter of a professor at the Federal Magic University.
Top scorer on the entrance exam.
Early admission in one year.
Frail.
Extremely beautiful, and so on.
In the case of the last one, it should be noted in advance that it includes the opinions of others.
Anyway, when the name of the female student in the wheelchair, Julia, spread throughout the auditorium, the lecture ended.
Contrary to the seriousness with which she looked at me.
Julia’s smile didn’t fade until the end.
*
“Wow….”
“Let’s sit over there.”
I couldn’t help but exclaim.
What drew out more admiration than when I took the Type 2 Magic lecture was none other than the student cafeteria at the Federal Magic University.
It’s spacious.
It’s comfortable.
And there were many people.
The restaurant we arrived at, leading Werner, who had fallen on the grass, welcomed me like a paradise.
We each carried trays with our food and sat in empty seats.
As soon as Werner sat down, he opened his mouth wide and yawned.
“Ah… It was a hassle waiting.”
“You could have just come for the lecture.”
“It’s not that the lecture is difficult. Boredom is the problem. I’d rather not listen.”
“Hmm.”
I chuckled and twirled the pasta on the plate with my fork.
It was an impressive tomato spaghetti sprinkled with snow-like cheese.
As I put the rolled noodles in my mouth, the taste, worth fifteen shillings, burst with a satisfying flavor.
At least there seemed to be no boredom during mealtime.
Meanwhile, quite a few students around were looking in our direction.
Especially the freshmen seemed to be particularly interested, and the reason was obvious. It was because the two top students were having a meal together.
Little by little, it was becoming apparent how I was treated at the Federal Magic University.
There were roughly three categories.
Firstly, those who treated me as the model student who became the top scorer in the entrance exam.
Secondly, like most federal people, students who kept a distance and just threw glances at me.
If there was something amusing, it was that no one from either of the two categories dared to pick a fight with my gray hair.
I realized the power of being a magic university student. At least within the school, I didn’t have to worry about being suspected of my background.
The problem lies with the third group.
Even as I ate, their sharp gazes were piercing through me.
While not directly confrontational, students of this group somewhat openly ostracized me. And I wasn’t their sole target.
I turned to another rejected acquaintance and inquired, “Werner.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you see those guys over there? I can’t figure out their behavior.”
“Let me see… Ah, I got it.”
Werner explained, sounding somewhat bored.
“They’re the ones who, despite reaching university, still take pride in their high school. Especially those who have connections with seniors, they tend to be quite arrogant.”
“I see.”
“Mostly from prestigious schools like the first and third. So, compared to me from the fourth, or you who didn’t even attend school in Prussia, it might irk them that we hold top positions.”
It was a surprising revelation.
The information that I wasn’t from a Prussian school seemed to have already circulated among them.
“Are there many like them?”
“A minority. Ignoring them is the best strategy.”
“Well, true.”
Being accustomed to disregarding their stares, I casually searched for another topic.
Ah, come to think of it.
There was something Werner, who was familiar with the faces of professors, wanted to ask.
“Werner, do you happen to know who Professor Louise Ehrlich is?”
“Famous.”
It was a concise reply.
Werner set down his fork.
“The youngest professor in the history of the Federal School of Magic. A rising theoretical magician with over four papers published as the first author. Have you attended her class?”
“Yeah. [Advanced Magic Practice, Type 2].”
“I envy you. I wanted to attend too.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t like taking lectures in the morning.”
“…”
Regardless of Werner’s eccentric attitude towards academics, Louise Ehrlich seemed to be a highly esteemed professor and researcher, just as I had expected.
The reason for my curiosity was simple.
—My youngest daughter, Louise, is managing her meals at the university because of her job as a professor.
Louise.
That name sounded familiar.
But there was one strange thing.
The daughter of the Oslo family, who was said to be holding a professorship. If her name is Louise at the Federal School of Magic, there can only be one person.
Why is it Louise Ehrlich and not Louise Oslo?
“Hmm…”
Are they namesakes?
Well, it’s highly unlikely for a single household to have two distinguished sorcerers and professors.
I concluded my first day at the Magic University, vowing to attend Professor Louise Erlich’s class someday.
April 15th. Slightly cloudy.
It was a dreadful misstep.
Three days after the orientation ceremony.
“Huh.”
Incredibly, upon returning from classes that day, I stumbled upon a redhead woman at the Erlich residence.
