Chapter 2

Under institute regulations, the mage alone received credit for experimental results and bore responsibility for accidents; the assistants had nothing to do with either-even if an assistant's mistake caused a failure, the mage bore the consequences. If a beaker cracked during an experiment and caused it to fail, could you blame the beaker for the accident? Obviously not. Everything came down to the supervising mage's mistake in using it. So after I was punished, they would be transferred to other mages' laboratories to continue working as assistants, with no blemish on their records. What did they have to worry about?

Sure enough, a furious voice suddenly rang out. "Ciprins Field! Just look at what you've done!"

Author's note: I'm starting a new story! This time I'm trying a new style-first person! And most importantly, I can guarantee that this one will be sweet from beginning to end!

First, let me talk about the inspiration for this story~~~ A long, long, long... time ago, I saw a movie from France or somewhere. I've forgotten its name (if anyone else has seen it, please remind me). It was about a scumbag who cheated, and in the end, after his mistress and wife found out about each other, they were actually attracted by each other's personalities, happily kicked the scumbag aside, and got together. They even raised a child together... Of course, the mistress and wife were different kinds of beauties. After watching it, I thought, look how enlightened they are! But in danmei... in those popular substitute-lover stories, the long-suffering substitute shou is often hung up on the scumbag gong, and frequently tormented by the white moonlight too. I object! I reject

angst

! Scumbags, go away! And so! This story came to be!

So it's just like the line in my synopsis: the substitute lover and the white moonlight got together! Let the scumbag go hang himself, hahaha!

Of course, you can probably tell that "I"-Ciprins-am the substitute lover... pats him.

Chapter 2

The expressions on my assistants' faces now... made me think someone had suddenly died at the scene.

I turned around and saw a fat old man getting off a flying motorcycle, dressed in the institute's full set of tailored formalwear. It made me suspect that the institute officials' clothes might be better quality than mine, because as he lifted his leg to get off the motorcycle, I thought that poor fabric had to be tough enough to withstand a dragon's claws if it wasn't going to burst under the strain of his bulging fat.

Well, those flashy, impractical clothes with their unbearably uncomfortable cut were the Magic Research Institute's uniform. I was usually forced to wear them only on important occasions. They offered no defense or enhancement whatsoever, and as I said, the tight, fitted cut was uncomfortable. I couldn't even move my arms very much. Although I didn't need to wave my arms and legs around to cast spells, robes were still more suitable for a mage's everyday wear!

The uniforms were all black with red epaulets, the emblem of the Osland Federation's National Magic Research Institute on the chest and collar, and embroidered stars indicating rank—not a mage's level, but administrative rank.

In other words, who was the higher-ranking official.

Unfortunately, he had five stars and I had two. He outranked me by three levels, and although I couldn't remember his exact position, I knew it was quite high. I, on the other hand, was a mage, just a mage.

Having my own laboratory and independent projects was nothing special. The institute had more than a hundred two-star mages like me and thousands of assistants... Well, assistants didn't have stars. One-star mages were interns, but there weren't many of them. If they couldn't become full members and rise to two stars within a few months, they either filled vacancies as assistants or left. So in practice, two stars were the lowest rank among the institute's research fellows.

The fat old man was already charging over aggressively.

Moli leaned close to my ear and whispered, "His name is Doug. Don't get it wrong again."

"Lord Doug," I said, nodding.

The fat old man seemed even angrier at my attitude. His short, fat finger nearly reached my nose as he roared, "Don't think I can't do anything to you just because you're... gak... his man! You've really made a mess this time. Nobody can protect you now!"

Uh, that gak in the middle didn't make you sound cute.

He waved his arms repeatedly. Clearly, those were just meaningless spasms. I watched for a while and, after confirming that none of those complicated gestures would unexpectedly squeeze out a spell, shifted my weight to my other leg so my foot wouldn't go numb.

"I'll find the problem with the experiment as soon as possible-"

The five-star fat old man interrupted me. I quietly cast a little spell to deflect the spittle he sprayed and continued listening. "...That's enough! Ciprins! The institute won't keep giving you funding without end for you to waste on all sorts of nonsense! Year after year, the accounts show not a single bit of income generated by you, yet every problem has something to do with you. Endless losses and wasted resources..."

I frowned and cut in. "Knowledge. This is knowledge. Does every word of knowledge have to be translated into money? Does the institute exist to print banknotes? You know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. You know the lunar cycles of Silver Moon and Shadow Moon, and you even know something as basic as how many hours there are in a day. Just because that knowledge can't be exchanged for an equivalent amount of federation currency, should you forget it?"

Perhaps he hadn't expected me to argue back, because his anger visibly rose another notch and began to threaten his reason.

As it turned out, reason was a good thing to have.

"...An explosion! Heavens, an explosion! You blew up the laboratory! Once the media gets hold of this, do you know what they'll say about us? A century of the National Magic Research Institute's good name! Ha! Just wait, you're finished! This place will finally have some peace and quiet. Once the Federal Congress passes the motion to impeach Speaker Reynold, you can get out along with your patron!"

For a second, I suspected Moli could squeeze my waist in two.

I tried moving and found that, with Moli holding me this tightly, I really couldn't move either arm!

Immediately afterward, everyone fell silent. The flesh on the five-star fat old man's face twitched twice, and he clamped his spittle-spraying mouth shut. I thought he might have realized he'd been too eager and let something slip. I was only a mage, but who knew whether any of the onlookers were working for his political enemies, or whether his cheerful little monologue had been recorded as evidence of him slandering his superior? After all, Reynold, the speaker of the Magic Council, wasn't so easily brought down, even if he really did have a way to get the Federal Congress, which stood in opposition to the Magic Council, to pass the impeachment motion.

...But the point was, I'd just broken up with him. Uh, unilaterally.

There was one thing I didn't much like, though I was usually too lazy to correct people: Reynold and I had simply been in a normal romantic relationship. Once. Until I decided to break up with him. But most people probably thought that, with one of us the speaker of the Magic Council and the other a low-ranking mage at the institute, there was no way we could be equals. So even when I explained, hardly anyone believed me. They would look around with an expression that said, "You don't have to say it, I understand." Moli said that to outsiders, our relationship looked more like the "overbearing

CEO

and his delicate little wife" in popular webnovels, but I knew that was just another way of describing a kept lover.

Although I'd found it objectionable at first, over time I stopped caring. They didn't have the power of words described in myths; simply saying something didn't change the facts.

Many people at the institute, like this five-star old man, thought I'd gotten in through my connection to Reynold. But in fact, I was already a research fellow at the institute before I met him. Reynold claimed he'd fallen in love with me at first sight, and I had to admit he'd put considerable effort into pursuing me.

Even earlier than that, the institute's old director had personally assessed me, read out my name and academic achievements at an institute-wide meeting, and given me that set of formalwear I rarely wore. Afterward, I also received a laboratory, a single-occupancy apartment I could live in for free, a cafeteria breakfast card, a borrowing card for the institute library, and an annual public transport pass. Oh, and Moli and the others.

None of this had anything to do with Lord Reynold, speaker of the Magic Council. It was just that people were always willing to believe whichever "fact" they liked.

I hadn't even noticed when the five-star old man had stormed off again. I had to admit, mages were just that kind of creature. Sometimes we simply couldn't keep our thoughts under control. If we weren't good enough at thinking, we couldn't do research!