Chapter 4

He said, "What are you talking about, Ciprins? Stop it."

He told me to stop it. The last time he'd said that to me was when I'd refused his arrangement and wouldn't obediently go work as an assistant in his office.

But clearly, I didn't like that tone. It made me feel as though, in his eyes, I was a junior apprentice who couldn't even get a fireball spell right.

So I adopted a more serious attitude too.

"Reynold, you mentioned to me recently that the Magic Summit is coming up, and that, as usual, you'll be presiding over its affairs." I didn't have much else to say; clearly, laying my cards on the table would be simpler. "The summit gets so much attention, so he'll be attending. Given what you have going for you, your chances of successfully pursuing him aren't low in theory."

After all, even I, someone who had once thought I would spend my life with knowledge, had been moved by Reynold.

"...Who...do you mean?" Reynold froze for a second before asking in a dry voice.

Apparently, I had to name him outright. I said, "Mephistopheles Madsen, the legendary archmage known throughout the world today. He's on the attendee list, isn't he? He was on the TV news a couple of days ago. It's not like I never watch TV."

Reynold fell into an unusual silence on the other end of the call. He usually had all sorts of mature, tactful things to say, enough to deal with any complicated problem. I thought I might be the only lover he'd ever used as a stand-in, which was why he seemed at a loss after being exposed.

A moment later, I heard him ask very softly, "How did you know?"

But before I could answer, he answered his own question. "You're a very perceptive and attentive mage. You can spot a single miscopied stroke in a lengthy ancient incantation right away, so I shouldn't have kept hoping you wouldn't notice."

...All right, I wasn't very experienced either. What was I supposed to do when the other person kept praising me during a breakup?

So, after thinking about it, I could only say, "Now that it's come to this, good luck, Reynold."

"...No...Ciprins, I'm sorry..." On the video, Reynold covered his face with both hands for a moment. "I'm sorry. Give me a moment to collect my thoughts... Get some rest. We'll talk later."

Then he ended the call. I appreciated that about him: Reynold never lied casually to anyone other than his political opponents and reporters... At most, he would tell half the truth and leave the other half unsaid, but that was pretty good for a politician.

I stood there for a while, holding my phone after its screen went dark. The apartment was so quiet I could hear the air moving.

Well, all right. I'd broken up.

Chapter 4

After putting down my phone, I sat down and looked through my experiment notes. I soon realized I had no idea where to start. It might also have been because my backups at home were incomplete. After all, this apartment was tiny; I couldn't even fit a bigger bookcase in it, so there was no way to keep every last detail of all those materials and records here.

Spatial storage devices? Ha. Whether it was a traditional alchemical spatial ring or the magic storage bracelets more popular in the new era, if I could afford one, I wouldn't be living in a welfare apartment.

I stared blankly at the incomplete materials for a while and felt there was no point in continuing.

It was still early, since I hadn't gotten off work at the usual time today. After some thought, I decided to use the time to indulge myself for once and take a bath. No, of course my apartment didn't have a bathtub! The bathroom was so small that I was quite content just to have a showerhead installed, but I was a mage. Naturally, a mage had ways to take a bath without a tub. It was just a bit of work, which was why I called it an indulgence.

I used magic to create a large half-oval bubble and stepped inside, then cast a levitation spell to keep my feet from going numb from standing too long. The result was as though I were floating in midair inside a big transparent barrel. The bubble came just up to my chest. After filling it with hot water, I cast a temperature-keeping spell, and I could enjoy a nice, comfortable soak.

Once I was done, I pulled a small jar of face mask out of the cupboard and started spreading it on my face. It was actually leftover spellcasting material from my last experiment. I wouldn't be using it again for the time being, and it was all made from fresh magical plants that wouldn't keep for long, so I'd turned it into a face mask... All right, I admit I'd originally wanted to make a cake, but I wasn't good at spells suited to cooking, so somehow it had become a face mask.

...Well... I was a mage! Not a chef. It was perfectly normal to get it wrong!

Soaking in the bath with a face mask on, I actually fell asleep.

By the time I woke with a start, still groggy, night had fallen. The temperature-keeping spell hadn't worn off; if I didn't cancel them myself, I could maintain little spells like these until the end of time. But the face mask had hardened, leaving my face encased in what felt like a shell of cement. I couldn't wash it off, so I had no choice but to use a few ice spikes and wind blades to chip at it.

It really was hard.

My skin was a little wrinkled from soaking so long, so I put on a mage robe made of soft, fine fabric. In the darkness, my phone was giving off a faint glow. It was a text message, apparently from the institute's number, informing me that I had been suspended without pay and would remain under observation for the time being.

Ah, how could I have forgotten that the people at the institute had such unmagical ways of thinking!

...If I'd known, I should have studied it a little longer and turned that face mask into a cake.

Ugh, what a headache! If they weren't paying me, what was I supposed to use to buy new materials? After thinking it over, I firmly abandoned the idea of ordering takeout and conjured a piece of magic bread with a meal-creation spell. The stuff tasted dry. Although I didn't care about the pleasure of tasting food, I had to acknowledge that arcane bread only filled the stomach. It lacked the nutrition of real food, and eating it long-term would turn one into a sickly, malnourished mage with dark circles under the eyes... I didn't really approve of neglecting sleep and meals for research, because a little calculation showed that living a long, healthy life meant having more time to pursue knowledge.

But I had to save some money today. I'd placed an order with the owner of the magic materials shop for a batch of fresh slime mucus. That stuff might have been everywhere in the age of legends, but mucus suitable for spellcasting materials was terribly hard to get! To see a slime in a modern city, you had to go to a magical creatures exhibition hall. Every slime in there was frighteningly precious, its translucent body kept plump and glistening. Getting any mucus from them was out of the question. Thousands of years ago, when their poor ancestors were being crushed under adventurers' feet, they surely never imagined their descendants would have such comfortable lives.

I ate my little loaf, pulled out two bottles of potions I wasn't satisfied with to drink, and casually turned on the TV. I usually had little time to watch it, but the magic television belonged to the institute, and I couldn't take it off the wall. So many unexpected things had happened today that I might as well make an exception and do something I didn't often do.

All sorts of noisy, meaningless sounds came from the TV. The flickering commercials and soap operas made my eyes swim. I changed channels aimlessly, and on a news channel, I realized that the hand changing channels had trembled slightly-

Because, by sheer coincidence, that name came from the TV:

"...Archmage Mephistopheles Madsen, hailed as a living legend, arrived in the capital today and will attend the International Magic Summit, which opens in three days. Academics and the public alike are eagerly anticipating the renowned mage's report on this year's research findings..."

Archmage Mephistopheles Madsen. My former lover had used me as his stand-in, and now the real person had arrived.

But even before this happened, Mephistopheles's name had been known far and wide.

It was just that, before then, I'd never thought I had anything in common with him, except that we were both mages... No, even now, I didn't understand how Reynold could have taken me as a stand-in for this legendary mage.

Because I didn't like following gossip at all, I'd never paid attention to whether Mephistopheles looked anything like me. I only knew that he had extraordinary academic achievements and was a young mage truly worthy of respect.

A tall, slender figure flashed across the screen. The parliament's reception party had sent out a large number of security guards, blocking the reporters' cameras. All I saw was a fleeting glimpse of a black robe. His long, loose hair did seem to be a light color very close to mine, though his seemed whiter, while mine was closer to flaxen.

Well, purely in terms of aesthetics, the robe I'd glimpsed did look nice. I might have liked one too, if I'd had money to spare.

There were many reasons this mage was famous. He was not only renowned in mage circles; he was also as well known among ordinary people as a popular movie star.