Rorschach's Real Difficulty

"Flagship Salad, Orion Pie, and, um... Southern Pork Hock... three Rice Puddings." As a regular customer, Bart ordered several dishes before even looking at the menu.

"What do you want for the main course?"

Richard chose Sea Bass.

"The same as Rick." Rick was Richard's nickname among friends, and Rorschach addressed him that way according to his memories.

"Come on! If you order something different, we can share. Besides, the salad I ordered already has fish in it."

"Fine. Summer Palace Fried Pork Chop, with Apple Sauce."

"That's all." Richard smiled and handed the menu to the server. This polite, handsome young man was so dazzling that the young waitress was momentarily flustered.

That brief hesitation irritated the excited Bart. "You wrote it down, so hurry up and tell the kitchen! Our stomachs are growling like bellows!"

"Bart, don't be like that. We should respect every—"

"My dear Rick, I'm the person in this restaurant who respects the servers most. Do you know why?" Bart tossed up a gold coin and caught it. "Because I guarantee you won't find a customer more generous with tips than me!"

Richard wanted to say something else, but Rorschach quickly changed the subject. "We all passed the assessment. What are your plans for the future?"

The Imperial Royal Magic Academy's system differed somewhat from those elsewhere. In other places, magical apprentices were like artisan apprentices, forced to live like servants under their teachers for many long years, sometimes even over a decade.

The Mage Guild was a loose organization. Whether an apprentice could be recognized as an Intermediate Mage depended largely on their teacher's wishes, and each Mage or Mage group's Magic Tower was relatively isolated.

The Empire's educational methods and assessments, tested and promoted in the academy, fixed the course of study at four to six years. After passing, students became official Mages. Those who joined a Magic Tower for further study could learn and conduct research as assistants, enjoying far better circumstances than traditional magical apprentices.

For those who chose not to continue their studies, the Empire also recruited these low-ranking Mages into the military as combat personnel, stationing them throughout the Empire to handle magic-related affairs.

Even apprentices who failed the assessment and gave up the path of magic could find employment in the military, Imperial departments, numerous merchant associations, and the Mage Guild. People who could read, write, and calculate fluently would not be wasted, whether or not they knew any damn magic tricks.

"I think I understand the Fireball fanatic's thinking now." Rorschach sorted through the information and his thoughts, finally understanding why the original owner had been obsessed with Fireball.

Fireball was the most straightforward and powerful of beginner spells. Whether he passed the assessment or not, specializing in this spell would give him a chance to join the military or become a mercenary or bodyguard. Such professions required combat ability and paid better than clerical work. It was a core skill that broadened employment prospects and raised salary expectations.

The reason the original Rorschach had been so eager to find work was, of course, his family. His parents were merely farmers with a little land. As they grew older, their ability to work would decline, and they were unlikely to support him until he could continue his studies and become a seventh-rank or higher Intermediate Mage. Even entering the academy in the first place had required support from the Village Chief and other villagers, but that support could not last forever.

If he joined the military and earned merit in battle, he might even have a chance to become an ennobled military noble, gain a small fief, and have tenant farmers and servants. Then his parents would no longer need to work.

That was the original Rorschach's beautiful vision, but not the current Rorschach's.

Now that I've come to a world with magic, how could I possibly not pursue knowledge and master more wondrous power?

I don't want to spend my whole life as some guy who only knows how to pew-pew Fireballs!

But Rorschach could not simply abandon the original owner's parents. Money—more precisely, the funds needed to support his path in magic—had become his greatest problem. At that moment, he could not help admiring the convenience enjoyed by transmigrators who began in the Qidian Orphanage: having no attachments truly meant having far fewer worries.

Bart's words interrupted Rorschach's thoughts. "Plans for the future... I'm not interested in my old man's business... What do you think? How about becoming a town Mage appointed by the Imperial Council?"

Bart leaned forward, rubbing the thumbs of his clasped hands together, a habitual gesture whenever he was calculating something. "You may not know this, but Old Bailey, the governor of my hometown—Fugoburg—started out as a town Mage... Old Bailey is my idol now! You've never met that dried-up old man. He's actually a pretty nice guy, but if you ask me, his brains and spellcasting ability are utterly terrible! If I take this path, just wait and see. I'll have a seat on the Imperial Council!"

Wasn't the leap from a grassroots village and town official to the ruler of an entire state a bit too large? Rorschach looked at the ambitious Bart and held back his words. Still, he had to admit that a family merchant association spanning multiple Imperial states and provinces could indeed give Bart a powerful push.

"What about you, Rorschach? Don't tell me you still plan to join the Imperial Army! My father told me those noble generals look down on people... Going there would be a waste of your talent! As long as you say the word, the merchant association is willing to sponsor you to study at a Magic Tower!"

Rorschach neither agreed nor disagreed, merely joking, "If this little Mage ever truly has nowhere else to go, I'll come rely on the future councilman."

Rorschach had always been proud, and knowing that, Bart did not press the matter. Instead, he turned to Richard. "What about Rick?"

Richard's soft, slow words nevertheless startled them both. "I'm going to report to the Imperial Army."

"Your father's decision?"

"My father has already arranged everything. Although I'll be entering the military, I'll continue studying under the Imperial Army's chief magical adviser..." Richard's expression remained blank as he spoke, leaving Bart and Rorschach unable to tell how he himself felt about it.

The atmosphere cooled somewhat. When the food arrived, the three of them ate in silence. Rorschach cut apart a thin pork chop larger than his face, the knife scraping against the porcelain plate with an unpleasant sound.

"Will we still be able to see each other often in the future?" Bart suddenly sighed.

"It'll be difficult, but not impossible." Rorschach tasted his main dish. The pork chop had been pounded large and thin with a meat mallet, while the breading formed a crisp shell. Without the fruit jam on the side, it tasted only faintly of salt and pepper.

"After all, this is a world with magic."

"What kind of answer is that?" Bart was baffled as he viciously carved into the pork hock.

"Rorschach is right."

After the meal, Bart suggested going to a tavern for another drink. Moonlight Lake Restaurant only served low-alcohol Sparkling Wine and beer, which clearly did not meet Bart's standard for "having a drink."

"I was too nervous to sleep well last night. I'm going back to catch up on sleep." Rorschach declined the suggestion. Richard did not want to drink either, so Bart could only give up.

The magical world had always been divided over fermented nectar. One side praised it as the fountainhead of inspiration and art, creation and magical enlightenment; the other condemned it as a catalyst for chaos and stupidity, a poison to reason and the brain. But regardless, Rorschach had something important to do. He needed to return to his dormitory and be alone as soon as possible.

But someone was already in Rorschach's single dorm room.

When he pushed open the door, he saw a fierce bald man staring at him.

Sebins, the academy's Discipline Chief, a former Imperial Army soldier, and the Royal Magic Academy's only administrator who could not use magic.