Genius Wizard Conceals His Origins

A letter is complete with just a sender and recipient; the postman is merely a mediator.

Neither the sender nor the receiver knows the face of the postman. Regardless of whether he’s young or old or where he’s from, they only see the mailbox and the letter in the end.

Therefore, the reason for my current anguish is fundamentally because I’m not a postman.

I shouldn’t hastily hand over the letter.

Mrs. Diemann, that is, Ranya Diemann, crossed over to the Empire right before the war, and now that the war is over, there’s virtually no way for an ordinary Imperial citizen to send a letter to the Federation.

In short, this letter is tantamount to evidence showing that I’m a stowaway from the Empire.

“……”

I had to be cautious.

I’m not a postman, and while Werner might not know everything about me, he knows enough to report me to the police and judicial authorities.

So my plan was this:

I absolutely must not hand over the letter person to person. I need to either go through an anonymous intermediary or secretly slip it among his belongings.

The method I was going to execute today was the latter.

Conveniently, the atmosphere was in a lull. Some people were asleep, some were inhaling cigarette smoke on the terrace one floor up, so there weren’t many people in the room at the moment. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

I looked at Werner.

He was sitting on a single-seater sofa with his legs crossed in an arrogant manner.

At a glance, it seemed ordinary, but perhaps slightly intoxicated, he hadn’t moved from that position for about ten minutes.

Now’s the chance.

I took out the letter and carefully approached Werner.

Behind the sofa was a familiar bag. It was his bag that I had seen on the day of the entrance exam results.

Swish—

Moving so that he wouldn’t notice, I tossed the letter into the bag.

The palm-sized letter slipped into the leather bag.

Mission complete.

“…Phew.”

A sigh of relief escaped involuntarily.

How should I put it? It ended much more easily than I thought.

Later, when Werner discovers the letter, he might wonder who did it. Hopefully, it shouldn’t develop into suspicion about my origins.

Why is my heart pounding over something like this?

I was about to leave with the feeling of a thief who had just completed the perfect crime when I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

Come to think of it.

Does Werner know about Mrs. Diemann’s existence?

“……”

Eight years.

It’s been eight years since he lost contact with his mother. Moreover, during that time, the Empire’s territory was engulfed in the ravages of war, so it wouldn’t be strange if he had assumed she was dead.

Furthermore, eight years ago, he would have been in his early teens.

He wouldn’t be quite old enough to fully understand the war between nations or family circumstances.

If so, I can make this conjecture:

Werner might believe his mother has passed away and might not even know that she was from the Empire.

I narrowed my eyes.

If by any chance that was the case, by handing over this letter, I would be branding Werner as someone of mixed Imperial blood. This is something I should reconsider.

As I was lingering behind the single-seater sofa like this…

Werner moved.

“Eugene!”

“Uh, huh?”

“You… You said that hat was a gift, right?”

As I slowly nodded, he grinned and continued.

“Somehow, it seems like my mother’s handiwork.”

“…!”

“Ah. It doesn’t mean much. It’s just that I can feel the characteristic clumsy shape of a handmade hat in that hat, too. I have a similar one. Although I used it when I was young, so it definitely wouldn’t fit on my head now, HAHAHAHAHA!”

Werner laughed heartily, perhaps due to the effects of alcohol.

I wanted to laugh along, but the corners of my mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

In the end, I hardened my expression and opened my mouth.

“It’s probably just a coincidence. By the way, is your mother doing well?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“My mother is from the Empire, you see. Unfortunately, she crossed over to the Empire a month or two before the war, and we lost contact after that.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It’s a surprisingly common story these days, isn’t it?”

My guess was wrong.

Werner knew everything.

Not to mention, he was the kind of person who could proudly mention being of mixed Imperial blood. Well, being called a ruffian, what would he be afraid of?

However, one curious point was that his tone suggested he had heard this from someone rather than experiencing it directly.

That curiosity was soon resolved.

“My father also passed away a few weeks after the war began. Unfortunately, he belonged to a frontline unit during the very early stages of the war when the damage was the greatest.”

“…!”

“The ones who explained the situation to me and took care of me when I suddenly lost both parents were the sponsors of the Nocturne Club. They said my father was an early member of the Nocturne Club. Now, this place is like my home.”

Mrs. Diemann had said that her husband was a soldier.

Yes. This was actually a more likely story.

“The fact that I might never meet my mother again… The news of my father’s death in battle… I had to hear all of that here at the Nocturne Club.”

Werner’s expression gradually hardened. The cheap wine’s intoxication seemed insufficient.

When his mouth opened again, I wanted to cover my ears.

“I despise the Empire.”

“HAHAHAHA!”

“Two violins, and is there anyone who can play the cello?”

Some time passed, and the cold atmosphere quickly returned to its previous heat.

No, it seemed even more lively than before.

Those who had been debating, spitting as they talked, each picked up instruments, and even those who had fallen asleep suddenly woke up and were all laughing boisterously while appreciating a strange quartet.

It was somewhat unexpected that Werner was a viola player.

Even the composer, who had been called Mr. Mahler *1, joined in, holding a conductor’s baton.

By the time the painter, unable to bear the noise, finally left for the outside…

Only I was detached from this atmosphere.

Around that time, I tried to fill the pipe with tobacco.

Alcohol wasn’t to my taste. So, the pipe was my only resort.

I hadn’t brought any tobacco, so I used what was available at the Nocturne Club.

I packed the tobacco into the pipe, tapped it down, and lit it bit by bit.

Of course, not knowing how densely to pack the tobacco or how to light it properly, I did it roughly by feel, and it didn’t work well.

After extinguishing the fire three or four times, I finally declared defeat.

“Director Lovelace. It would have been nice if you had taught me how to use it too……”

In the end, I had no choice but to grab the bottle of alcohol next to me and take a swig.

It seemed like only by doing this could I forget Werner’s words and go along with this atmosphere.

“Ugh.”

It still doesn’t suit my taste.

Not only does it taste bad, but I might also be weak to alcohol itself, as just drinking two or three glasses’ worth immediately made my vision start to blur. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

Finding it hard to keep my balance, I sat down on the sofa, almost falling onto it.

“HAHAHA!”

“Alright, again! In 4/4 time—”

I closed my eyes while listening to the quartet that was off in both rhythm and scale.

My thoughts sink deeper.

The Empire and the Federation. The Federation and the Empire.

I am the outsider who came from the Empire to the Federation.

I’ve received so many looks until now. I’d not only felt sidelong glances or blatant stares, but I also sometimes experienced hatred accompanied by words and actions.

But I know, and they know, too. Such hatred is superficial.

I’m just briefly upset, and they just briefly satisfy their sense of superiority.

That’s their limit and the reason why it can’t fundamentally affect me.

But it’s different with those close to me.

The biggest problem, family, was somehow resolved thanks to the ocean-like tolerance of the Oslo family, but relationships formed while living aren’t just that.

Friends.

Lovers.

The new family I will create.

I imagined. Those with painful memories, upon learning of my origins, look at my gray hair and utter these words.

“It’s despicable.”

“Ah.”

I hate it.

I hated that very much.

Frauzen is no longer just a transit point. It’s where I must live and the foundation where I will build new relationships.

Then.

Am I destined to hear such words someday?

The music stopped.

Due to the intoxication, my thoughts expanded endlessly. My reasoning tried hard to argue that this was just a groundless fear, that it was a problem I could sufficiently change depending on my efforts, but it wasn’t enough to stop the dark thoughts from blooming like storm clouds.

I slowly got up from the sofa.

Just then, the young people who had stopped playing were gathering back at the table, so I moved to stand in front of them.

I still had enough discretion left to prevent myself from revealing secrets.

“You guys.”

However, mixing in a bit of sincerity, I spoke while taking off my hat.

“Look at my hair. It’s the color of ashes left in a fireplace. While everyone despises the color as that of Imperial blood, don’t you find it detestable?”

Their gazes turned towards me.

I closed my eyes, waiting for their response.

I thought I could accept whatever language came flying.

However…

“It’s an old argument.”

“This again? We’ve done it more than dozens of times already, it’s tiresome.”

“In other words, it’s interesting enough to do more than dozens of times.”

Far from the atmosphere sinking or being surprised, they all grinned and slowly started to raise their voices.

At that moment, Werner suddenly stood up from his seat.

“Alright! Our new member, Eugene Oslo, top entrant of the Federal University of Magic, has brought us a topic for discussion!”

“Huh, what?”

“Where does the inherent value of a human lie?!”

When Werner shouted that, the eyes of about a dozen young people all rolled at once.

“Isn’t it obviously ability? I still can’t stand those guys who babble about barbaric blood or whatever. It’s always those without any ability who do that.”

“The world we live in is right here, isn’t it? In the end, once born, humans are inevitably enslaved to greater things! I think international affairs are no exception, right?”

“Originality.”

“What?”

“Those without subjectivity and originality in their lives are corpses.”

Soon, they began to engage in fierce debate using their voices that had risen as high as they could go. It was so intense that my initial question had long been forgotten.

The very person who caused this situation, Werner, was watching this scene next to me, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“…What’s so funny?”

“Pfffft. Eugene. How is this not funny? Look at those guys.”

Only then did I properly look at the young people’s appearances.

Wearing hats, ties undone, and buttons unfastened, making their shirt appearance a complete mess.

Decisively, the fact that they were all wearing mismatched shoes and arguing as if doing a tap dance was such a spectacle that gray hair seemed like nothing in comparison.

“Werner, why does the Nocturne Club have such a strange dress code…”

Werner, giggling, opened his mouth.

“We throw away position, origin, honor, and standing. The moment we open the door to the Nocturne Club, we are purely intellectual clowns! A group of clowns whose only actions are laughing, chattering, and debating.”

“…Haha.”

“You seem to have been thinking a lot because of what I said earlier, but my saying I despise the Empire is just that, nothing more. To begin with, even my mother is from the Empire, so something like hair color is nothing.”

Werner looked at me and grinned shamelessly.

“Magic is a challenge.”

“What?”

“Those who don’t take the challenge are worthless. That’s the only standard I use to judge people! I don’t care if your hair is gray or whatever. You’re a man I’ve acknowledged.”

I stared at him with my mouth wide open.

It’s an outrageous statement.

I instantly understood why Werner was called the ruffian of School 4.

But.

“…You. You really are crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Just as he had acknowledged me, I finally acknowledged him.

The second floor of Bar Prelude is a terrace exclusively for the Nocturne Club, not accessible to regular customers.

I called Werner out there.

“Why here?”

“Werner.”

I took out a piece of paper from inside my clothes and handed it to Werner.

“Don’t ask.”

The thing I had taken back out of his bag.

After handing the letter to Werner, I said nothing and stood at the terrace railing.

The winter wind brushes against my cheeks.

I lit a fire with the matchbox I had brought, then carefully lit the tobacco inside the pipe.

After several attempts, the tobacco finally started to smolder, emitting smoke.

Using the sound of rustling paper from beside me as background noise, I put the pipe in my mouth and inhaled. [Only on Galaxy Translations! / Axiomatic]

“…Cough! Cough!”

Every time I coughed, smoke spread wildly along with my breath.

It’s so strong it almost brought tears to my eyes.

I quickly extinguished the tobacco.

Neither alcohol nor tobacco suits me. Director Lovelace’s advice to take it to the Nocturne Club had missed the mark completely.

As expected.

It seems I’m not quite an adult yet.

When I hung the black scarf back on the coat rack…

The calendar was already announcing the start of the summer semester at the Frauzen Federal University of Magic.

T/N

Mr. Mahler seems to reference Gustav Mahler, an Austro-Bohemian composer and conductor who was considered to be one of the leading conductors of his generation.