Stealing books

"Do you know why Tesri Academy is only two thousand years old?" Every evening, Mr. Victor drank his customary cup of Calming Tea, taking the opportunity to chat with Donald.

"Isn't two thousand years long enough?"

"There are Knight Academies on the continent with histories stretching back over ten thousand years, but elementary Magic Academies like Tesri Magic Academy, which specialize in training magic apprentices, rarely date back more than four thousand."

"Why is that?"

"Let me ask you something else. Do you know why they're called magic apprentices, and why the magic they cast isn't called Level 1 magic? Isn't that strange? Squires don't have battle qi, so they don't count as knights. But magic apprentices can clearly cast magic, so why are they still called apprentices?"

"Since you put it that way, I'd guess those two questions have the same answer."

"Clever boy. You're right. Three thousand years ago, a war brought magic incantations here from the south. Before that, magic apprentices couldn't cast magic at all. Most of them spent their entire lives as apprentice laborers, helping mages draw simple magic arrays. Now, with the aid of incantations, apprentices can cast magic too, but the name has stuck."

"So that's why. Then... Mr. Victor, could you tell me more about the steps for constructing a six-element magic model? You got to the sixth step last time."

"Oh, heavens, your questions are driving me mad! This must be the thousandth time you've asked me about magic models. I have no idea why these trivial questions interest you so much. You should spend more time on our materials science experiments. Now that's creative work." Victor didn't look angry at all. As he spoke, he stood up, found a book on the shelf, and tossed it to Donald. "Read it yourself, and stop asking me these silly questions."

The book was slim, with the title Magic Model Introduction and Practice printed on its cover. At last, Donald went downstairs satisfied.

The next day, after waiting almost another month since mailing his paper, Mr. Victor finally received a reply from the Continental Museum Association.

"Mr. Victor, there's a letter here from the Natural History Association. It seems to be about your paper."

The speaker was Miss Tracy, the official assistant assigned to Mr. Victor by the academy. She had served as his teaching assistant ever since graduating from the academy two years earlier. In those two short years, she had already mailed dozens of natural history papers for him, but the replies had grown increasingly unfriendly.

"Open it for me," Mr. Victor said casually. Inside, he was nowhere near as calm as he appeared. He didn't even want to read the reply himself, although he had put more care into this paper than anything else he had written, not to mention the marvelous experiments he had completed with Donald. After so many blows, however, he could hardly muster any confidence in the response he would receive from those "unreasonable" board members at the association.

Miss Tracy tore open the envelope and took out the letter. Astonishment twisted her pretty face.

"Hmph! This minor setback will never halt my tireless pursuit of truth!" Seeing Tracy's expression, Mr. Victor proclaimed his famous saying while imagining the vicious comments those detestable bureaucrats might have offered this time.

"But..." Miss Tracy had yet to recover from her astonishment.

"No buts! Those vicious comments are nothing but the ignorant masses slandering wisdom!"

"But the letter is full of praise for you..."

"Say no more. I've never cared about those bureaucrats' opinions. My pursuit of truth... what did you just say?"

"Your paper has been published in full. The letter says your paper has... ingenious experiments, comprehensive data, rigorous reasoning... why is Donald's..."

Before Miss Tracy could finish, Mr. Victor snatched the letter from her.

If his ears hadn't been in the way, the corners of Mr. Victor's mouth might have stretched all the way around to the back of his head. Those "bureaucrats' opinions he'd never cared about" were giving him incomparable pleasure.

"...Ingenious experiments, comprehensive data, rigorous reasoning..." Victor recited the passage over and over, as though it were some wondrous incantation.

"You just said they were the ignorant masses slandering wisdom..." Miss Tracy sounded a little puzzled. Had Donald witnessed this scene, he would certainly have been reminded of Mr. Victor's assessment of his official assistant.

Mr. Victor's happy moment was soon interrupted. A student knocked at the door and said hesitantly, "A handyman was caught stealing a book and taken to the Discipline Office. He actually claimed to be your assistant..."

"You mean Donald?" Victor glared at the student.

"I think... yes... that was his n-name." Frightened by his glare, the student began to stammer.

"The Discipline Office, is it?" Before Mr. Victor had finished speaking, he was already out the door.

The Discipline Office was near the faculty offices. By the time Mr. Victor arrived, quite a crowd had gathered outside.

"Let me in! This is a setup! He's been framed! Donald isn't that kind of person!"

Wesley tried to force his way through the door, but a group of students blocked him.

"We saw him tuck the book into his clothes with our own eyes. He was caught red-handed."

"Wesley, why are you still defending this despicable pauper? He's been using you all along..."

"Carl knew what he was like ages ago. What more is there to say now?"

Lucia stood at the edge of the crowd. Just a little earlier, in the Library, she too had seen Donald stuff the book into his clothes.

Lucia had a strange impression of Donald. The boy was very different from the other poor people she had met, and not merely in his appearance. There were also the things he said and the way he threw himself into his work: ever since he had taken charge of cleaning, the Library had become astonishingly clean. The way he had faced Carl and the others' provocations that morning had been nothing like a pauper, but rather a well-bred noble. He had said magic was too expensive, and he had also said he didn't want to explain himself. Now that something like this had happened, could he still refuse to explain? Or would his explanation be that he had stolen the book because magic books were too expensive...

He is a pauper, after all, Lucia thought. She felt ashamed of the faint curiosity, and even the tiniest trace of affection, she had previously felt for Donald. Father was right. I'm still too young to see the ugliness of human nature.

"What happened here?" Victor shouted. "Where's Donald?"

"Donald's inside. Mr. Edgar tied him up. They're framing Donald, saying he stole a book from the Library." Wesley was the class representative for Victor's magic array course and knew about Donald's connection to him.

The students parted of their own accord. Victor opened the door to the Discipline Office and saw Donald sitting on the floor against the wall, his hands bound. His thick padded coat had been torn, exposing the cotton stuffing.

Donald gave Victor a wry smile.

Mr. Edgar was in charge of discipline. Strictly speaking, he was only responsible for supervising the students' conduct; matters involving workers were outside his jurisdiction. But the students had dragged Donald in, leaving him no choice but to hold him and wait for an official from the academy's Logistics Office to handle the matter. Instead of someone from logistics, however, he saw Professor Victor push open the door and stare coldly at him. A bad feeling crept over him. Could the boy have been telling the truth? Is he really Victor's assistant?

Mr. Victor's expression was frighteningly cold. He picked up the copy of Magic Model Introduction and Practice from the desk in front of Edgar, turned to the flyleaf, and pushed it toward him. Pointing at a line of writing, he asked icily, "Tell me, what does this say?"

"From the collection of... Victor Bryan."

"So your fucking eyes do work!" Victor suddenly erupted.

The fire elements in the air instantly grew scorching hot. Edgar's back was already drenched in cold sweat.

(Mr. Victor roared: "If you've got recommendation votes, what are you waiting for? Give them to this boy! O(∩_∩)O")