Genius Wizard Conceals His Origins

If you ask someone from the Federation about the essence of winter, 99 out of 100 would mention cold and snow, but if you ask someone from the Empire, you’d get a slightly different answer.

The long night.

The darkness in the Empire is deep. It’s because even finding candles is difficult, let alone mana lamps.

Therefore, winter for those in the Empire is just a depressing period marked by slushy rain and darkness.

But it’s different in the Federation.

Mana lamps, abundant not only indoors but throughout the streets, adorn the entire city.

The stars that have risen from the ground drove away the darkness from the night, and a night without darkness could no longer serve as a standard for signaling the end of the day.

Winter in the Federation meant more time to tilt glasses and engage in conversation.

I’m currently at the bar district in western Frauzen. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

Despite being on Kram Street or Frauzen’s main road, it’s a place I’ve only visited a few times as it’s far from my commute to the telegraph bureau.

So, the first time I saw the night scenery of the bar district was today.

“…There are too many people.”

A street full of bustling vitality.

It’s hard to find a bar with its lights off.

Although it was only about nine in the evening, there were too many people. 

It felt even more so to me, who was used to the dim and dark nights of the Empire.

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Come on, cheers, cheers.”

There were even some people clinking glasses at outdoor tables in this cold weather.

It’s a night with light snow flurries. Even though I had wrapped a scarf over my strange attire, they were laughing boisterously without showing any signs of feeling cold.

Is it the power of alcohol?

“Hmm.”

Having never had a drink, it was hard for me to empathize.

Perhaps I might come to know the taste of alcohol today. After all, the reason I’ve stayed away from alcohol until now was simply because I avoided luxury items.

Speaking of luxury items, something came to mind.

I carefully touched the object I had put in the inner pocket of my coat.

Director Lovelace’s gift.

An elegantly curved, dark red wooden pipe.

Although I had been recommended to ‘take it with me,’ I didn’t think I would put the pipe in my mouth, having never even taken a sip of alcohol.

I wonder with what intention the director gave this to me.

At that point, I stopped my thoughts.

As I walked, I had already arrived at my destination.

[Bar Prelude]

“Is this it?”

Bar Prelude.

Following the address written on the invitation, I arrived at a small bar located at the corner of a building.

A sign that was inconspicuously placed, as if they had no intention of soliciting customers. The interior of the bar is decorated with a classic yet rather modest decor in many ways.

Perhaps as a consequence, the number of customers inside the bar seemed to be only a quarter of that in other establishments.

The doubt I had momentarily set aside resurfaced.

“This is supposed to be the Nocturne Club…?”

It’s a bit awkward to say, but no matter how I look at it, it’s far from being a social gathering place for intellectuals.

Not only was Werner nowhere to be seen, but there wasn’t even an atmosphere of customers actively engaging in conversation with each other.

Above all, the attire.

Unlike me, who had come observing the grotesque dress code, including mismatched shoes, the attire of the other customers was all normal.

Wondering if perhaps the address was wrong, I checked the invitation again, but it was in vain.

Werner. Is it my fault for believing the invitation that guy had scrawled down?

I clenched my fist.

“…If he made a mistake in the address, I won’t let him off easy later.”

Having come all the way to the front of the bar, I had no other choice.

Since I had taken out the carefully kept letter and put it inside my clothes, I had to at least see Werner’s face before leaving.

With a mind half skeptical and half nervous, I opened the door of Bar Prelude.

Creak. Ding!

A cheerful bell sound rang out.

At the same time, I made eye contact with a waitress whose expression was hard to read.

“Welcome. How many in your party?”

“A-Alone.”

The interior structure of the bar was ‘L’ shaped and was not very spacious.

The customer tables and the bartender’s area were, so to speak, on the long side of the ‘L,’ but for some reason, the waitress didn’t seem to have any intention of guiding me there.

To be precise…

…the waitress stood still and began to scan my entire body with her deep blue eyes.

She checked my ridiculous appearance: wearing a hat, no tie, and with the shirt buttons undone inside the coat…

…as I stood there, unable to do this or that.

After finally casting her gaze on my mismatched black and brown shoes, the waitress bowed to me and greeted me again.

“Welcome.”

The next moment.

She opened a door marked ‘Staff Only’ located in a corner of the store, out of sight of customers or passersby outside.

“Please follow me this way…”

“Ah. Yes.”

It was a door that, at first glance, seemed like it would lead to a bathroom or storage room.

However, what was inside was none other than a neat corridor.

Trying to hide my surprised look, I entered, and the waitress slowly closed the door.

I walked alone down the corridor. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

It was a winding corridor decorated with dimmed mana lamps. As I looked around at the decorations reminiscent of the night sky, I realized that I could hear people’s voices coming from somewhere…

…even though the bar outside had been quiet.

When I reached the end of the corridor…

“No. I clearly know you’ve studied rhetoric. Why are you making up expressions as you please?”

“My writing is perfect. I have no intention of changing a single sentence or word.”

“This is maddening. Wittgenstein! Come over here for a moment.”

“…Is it you again, Joyce?”

I saw it.

A space that looked about six or seven times larger than the bar outside… and a dozen or so people engaging in lively conversation within it.

I saw Werner, standing among them with his arms folded, wearing his characteristic smile.

If there was one distinctive feature, it was that they were all wearing mismatched shoes.