Chapter 76
Whether It Would Be Profitable
After arriving in Halim, Burnell wandered through the corridor with his carefully organized documents in hand.
It was the passage leading toward the accommodations.
He knew exactly where his room was, nor had he lost his way.
And yet he lingered there as though waiting for something.
“Burnell.”
A heavy voice.
And a gleaming head rising between two patches of shrubbery.
It was a head that had once brought laughter to countless people, earning Bernard the nickname of the Sunlight Mage.
The memory might once have brought a smile to Burnell’s face, but it did not now.
“G-good day, Chancellor! I have not seen you since my academy days.”
“Yes. It has been a long time.”
“I heard that you granted me the main stage. I am grateful for your kindness—”
“What is that?”
Bernard interrupted him and looked at the documents in his hands.
“This is what I plan to present during the briefing. I worked hard to refine it in my own way, but it is still not easy, so I was hoping you might review it.”
“You want me to?”
“Yes.”
“...Hand it over.”
Chancellor Bernard quickly began reading through the presentation.
Burnell’s mouth went dry under his serious gaze.
At last, Bernard smiled.
Was that smile a sign of good news?
“How ridiculous.”
It was not.
The smile on his lips was closer to a sneer.
“Burnell Marquis, I cannot begin to express how disappointed I am in you.”
“W-what do you mean?”
Burnell asked while maintaining his courtesy.
“What do you intend to do when the efficiency is only twelve percent?”
“We are gradually improving it.”
“And you intend to stand on that stage, insist that it has sufficient potential, and allow yourself to be ridiculed? Do you plan to smear the reputation of Regent Valdrova, the one person who believed in you?”
Burnell stared blankly at him.
This was not an application of something that already existed, but an entirely new creation.
An efficiency of twelve percent alone was already an astonishing result.
Bernard continued.
“Does anyone else even understand the formula you discovered? Even to me, this is all over the place. You may have obtained the formula, but you are improving its efficiency far too slowly. Had I understood this theory, I would have raised the efficiency much faster than you. Do you know why I am so confident?”
“...”
“Because your field of vision is too narrow, Burnell. Once you become obsessed with one thing, you stop seeing everything else. You are so focused on improving it by one percent that you cannot see the method for raising it by ten.”
Bernard shoved the presentation back against Burnell’s chest.
“I am disappointed. Deeply disappointed. You were better when you were still chasing impossible dreams. As you are now, you are nothing but a complete mess.”
Bernard turned his back on him and walked away.
Burnell said nothing and stared at the floor.
For a long while, he could not move from that spot.
Ferda had witnessed all of it.
He watched Bernard insult Burnell, crush his confidence, and leave.
Then he thought,
Was I wrong about Chancellor Bernard?
Bernard had created this opportunity for Burnell.
He had even offered him the main stage, something scholars considered an enormous honor.
Ferda had assumed it was an act of goodwill.
But it was not.
Bernard was a petty man who refused to acknowledge Burnell.
The higher a person was raised, the more painful the fall.
Did that mean Bernard intended to destroy him?
In that case...
What should I do here?
“Oh, Regent! What a coincidence meeting you here.”
Bernard’s cheerful voice pulled Ferda from his thoughts.
Only moments ago, when he thought no one was watching, the man had worn the face of a third-rate villain.
Now he looked polite and amiable.
“Stephan Pascal had just come to ask how the main event would be conducted—”
“Do you truly believe he is a fool?”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
When Ferda interrupted him with the question, Bernard looked genuinely confused.
Ferda answered bluntly.
“I happened to overhear the conversation you just had.”
Only then did Bernard understand, and his face reddened.
“Well... I showed you a rather embarrassing side of myself.”
Indeed, it had been difficult to watch.
Ferda intended to make him understand exactly what happened when a person’s hypocrisy was exposed.
“I do not know how it appeared to you, but I was not trying to harm Burnell.”
Ferda was left speechless.
“What do you mean?”
“Well... Burnell Marquis was a prodigy in whom our senior scholars placed great hopes. He held the top rank even during his academy years, and everyone agreed that his brilliant mind might overturn the entire century.”
Everyone already knew that the story had not ended as gloriously as those praises suggested.
Bernard sighed.
“But the moment he brought us the subject he intended to present at the conference, we were all bewildered. It was filled with ideas that seemed utterly absurd. We tried to dissuade him and guide him toward a better path, but he would not listen. Do you know what happens to nine out of ten people like that? They become consumed by their ideals and turn into madmen.”
“But he did not become a madman.”
“No. He succeeded.”
“And you still believe you can persuade me?”
Had Burnell merely been chasing ideals, Ferda might have understood.
He might even have approached Burnell with the same cynical attitude.
But Burnell had succeeded.
Results that should have taken years had appeared within mere months, and the efficiency was still improving.
“That is precisely why I am doing this.”
“You know that he was right, yet you still refuse to acknowledge him. Is that what the chancellor of humanity’s treasury of knowledge is supposed to do?”
“With people like Burnell, it must be done this way.”
“What kind of person is he?”
“The kind who presents innovations that ordinary people like us denied or could not even imagine. Such people must not be forced to remain within the limits of people like me. They should not conduct research merely to persuade others. They must follow what they themselves believe.”
Ferda understood what he meant.
Bernard was a genius.
But Burnell was a genius even among geniuses.
To Burnell, Bernard’s standards were no different from the standards of an ordinary person.
“Burnell will do everything in his power to prove me wrong out of spite. If he succeeded in creating something that absurd, then he must develop it even further. And he will prepare to strike back at me.”
This was a whip meant for Burnell.
A way to draw out the competitive spirit hidden within him.
“What will you do if he takes the wrong path?”
Just as Ferda himself once had.
Ferda swallowed those words.
“Burnell does not choose cowardly paths. He always insists on confronting things head-on. He, too, is a scholar advancing toward absolute truth.”
Bernard bowed politely.
“Even so, should you ever believe that he is heading down the wrong path, please tell him the truth—that I am too petty and narrow-minded to acknowledge him to his face. Now then, I should go prepare.”
Bernard walked past Ferda, and Ferda let him go.
What would he gain by beating the man senseless or reprimanding him?
I am curious as well.
At the same time, he was curious about the kind of man Burnell was in Bernard’s eyes.
Would he collapse in despair over not being acknowledged, or would he reinvent himself just as Bernard expected?
Pretending to know nothing, Ferda went to Burnell’s room.
Perhaps Burnell was still reeling from the shock, because he had not even closed the door properly, allowing Ferda to enter.
Burnell sat at the table in his room.
His shoulders heaved, and his breathing was ragged.
“Fine, fuck... I just have to raise the efficiency myself, don’t I?”
Tears fell from his eyes, but neither his hands nor his mind stopped moving.
He was already revising every point Bernard had criticized.
“Practical? Fine. I will raise it to twenty percent by next month. Just watch me. Every last bastard who laughed at me... I will force every one of them to acknowledge me. Damn it...”
The desire for revenge was unmistakable in his words.
He was using it as fuel to drive his mind forward.
That was what revenge did.
It made one forget exhaustion.
It granted the concentration needed to devote oneself wholly to a single task.
The difference between him and me is...
Burnell had chosen the right path, exactly as Bernard had predicted.
Ferda quietly closed the door and stepped back outside.
“Just remove that one. It looks worse now than it did in the design. And handle that piece carefully!”
Stephan directed the workers while studying the interior plans.
“Sir, we brought the item. Where should we display it?”
“Good. Hang it on that wall! You have the hooks, right?”
“Yes.”
“Check once more that they are secure. That is an important item! My head could roll if something happens to it!”
The displayed items consisted of the mana-stone samples they had brought and weapons that utilized them.
They had also prepared designs for future developments, presenting a clear vision of what might come next.
The object, built around a long pipe and covered in tangled wires and hanging glass bottles, was called a magitech rifle.
That is supposed to be a weapon?
The researchers had told Ferda that its performance was excellent, but he had never once seen it demonstrated.
Would it even function?
“My, Brother? Fancy meeting you here.”
A familiar voice reached Stephan’s ears.
She was an unexpected guest—or rather, someone whose appearance should have been expected.
Since every major merchant attended this exhibition, there was no possibility that the Pascal family would stay away.
Even knowing that, Tilda’s presence was always as troublesome to Stephan as an unpleasant surprise.
He found her deeply uncomfortable.
“Did you come alone?”
“No. Naturally, I came with my fiancé. He is over there. Henri?”
A man approached them with a bright smile.
He was a plump, middle-aged man in his mid-thirties.
Henri Dandolo.
He was the heir to Dandolo, one of the largest merchant companies in the Empire.
“Tilda, my love. I brought the cocktail you asked for.”
The heavyset man grinned as he handed her a glass.
The relatively petite and slender black-haired beauty stared at it.
She pouted, her eyes growing moist.
“This is a Cherry Bomb.”
“H-huh?”
“I wanted a Blue Sapphire...”
Tilda gently swayed her shoulders and fluttered her eyelashes.
Henri Dandolo smiled awkwardly and nodded.
“Ah, I am sorry. I will bring you another one!”
“Thank you. You really are the only one for me.”
“Brother-in-law! Let us exchange greetings later!”
“Ah, yes. Of course...”
Tilda smiled.
Delighted by that smile, Henri hurried off to retrieve another cocktail.
Stephan frowned as he watched him leave.
“Why are you ordering your fiancé around when you have servants?”
“Why else? Because I cannot stand looking at his face.”
Tilda gave him a thin, mocking smile.
She maintained a false facade in front of others, but she made no such effort around Stephan.
That only showed how little she thought of him.
“Does he know how ugly you are inside?”
“Of course not. A man who has not even managed to remove my underwear could hardly possess that kind of insight.”
“I am sure he would be delighted to hear the conversation we just had.”
“Go ahead, should you have the nerve.”
She was always like this.
She acted as though she stood above every man and tried to manipulate everyone around her.
She had been that way since childhood.
Whenever someone displeased her, she set traps to purge them or left wounds that never healed.
At first, her schemes had been almost childish.
But as she grew older, they became increasingly calculated.
Stephan feared Tilda.
He had seen the monster behind her smiling face, yet he still could not determine what kind of monster it truly was.
“Is this the product from the Far East that you are supporting, Brother?”
She covered her mouth with a fan and looked up at the magitech rifle.
“Yes.”
“How adorable. I cannot believe you brought something like this.”
“Hmm.”
She pretended to inspect it carefully before abruptly turning her head.
“To me, it looks more like a work of art.”
The implication was obvious.
Could it actually be used?
“Of course it can.”
“How does it work?”
“Well, you pull this part here, and then do this and that... and it activates on its own.”
The more Stephan’s explanation trailed off, the wider Tilda’s smile became.
“You have never seen it operate, have you?”
“...”
“Well, this is an exhibition. You can simply hang up an unfinished product, and no one will know. No, wait.”
She placed an index finger against her chin with an innocent expression.
“Come to think of it, there will also be a presentation, will there not?”
Her gaze made it clear that she already knew everything.
If she had learned about the mana stones, then naturally she would also know that Burnell was scheduled to give the main presentation.
“Why did you bring something that has never been tested? What if it explodes in the middle of the presentation? Would that not merely humiliate you?”
“It would.”
“It is perfect as a display piece, but... Hmm. I wonder whether it will make any money. Just as Father said, the east seems utterly useless.”
A crescent-shaped smile curved across her lips.
That expression.
It was the same face she had worn whenever she crushed Stephan beneath her heel back at the Pascal estate.
“Do not worry, little sister.”
But today was different.
Unlike usual, Stephan was filled with confidence.
“While you cling to a man’s crotch, I have my hand on the shoulder of my patron.”
It was a crude provocation.
But it worked remarkably well.
Tilda glared at him venomously.
Her face seemed to say, Someone like you dares talk back to me?
Her hand trembled.
Ordinarily, Stephan’s spirit would have broken.
But not today.
He was a sponsor who had placed his faith in the most dependable patron imaginable.
Damn, she is still frightening, though.
Remembering how she used to strike him without restraint during their childhood sent cold sweat down his back.
“Would you move aside?”
A voice came from behind her.
Her viciously twisted expression instantly smoothed out as she turned around.
A tall man with gray hair and blue eyes stood there.
He wore a formal black uniform accented with red.
Though young, he possessed an aura that did not suit his age.
So this is Ferda Valdrova.
His cold expression suited the nickname he had earned after killing Thessalos Wolcheo—the merciless murderer.
There was something complicated about his face, and it was more than enough to seize Tilda’s interest.
She smiled sweetly and offered an elegant greeting.
“Greetings, Regent Valdrova. My name is Tilda Pascal—”
“I do not care who you are. Move.”
“P-pardon?”
He cut off her greeting.
His rudeness was unbearable, yet Tilda could not bring herself to feel anger, even inwardly.
The blue eyes staring at her were so frigid that they seemed capable of freezing the blood in her veins.
“You do not understand words, do you? I told you to get out of my sight.”