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Humans are animals of adaptation.

No matter how harsh the neighborhood, there are people living there, and even if the environment changes dramatically, humans will adapt accordingly.

Or they will just alter the environment to suit their tastes.

Frederick and Camila were cases of successful adaptation.

Experience played a significant role in this.

Having faced the wrath of a magical girl (a former muggle) a few times when things went awry and she would unleash a furious “Kwahahah!” the spy adeptly learned to recognize the boss gimmicks like, “Ah, at this point, she’s about to shoot flames.”

Conversely, when the spy started cracking jokes inherited from the time of the Great Empire, the magician would quickly realize, “Oh no, here we go again. Well, it has been quite a while,” and retaliate with a burst of flames, fully loaded and ready.

Thus, the two were able to exchange devastating magic-revenge, built upon a year of accumulated experience.

Frederick knew that Camila, whose punches felt amazing, wouldn’t actually incinerate him like a colonial hamlet.

And Camila had learned through experience that if she acted angry enough to close her eyes and just pretended to be furious, there would be a 140% chance of getting a delicious, crunchy dessert she’d never tried before as a reward.

In other words,

Making a joke at the expense of world history to an Englishman vs. shooting elemental magic that a dragon from a fairy tale might spew.

They had been engaging in such silly interactions repetitively, treating it as a casual pastime whenever the cooldown was up.

It was truly a ridiculous act akin to the folks of a nation that considers pranks a form of folk entertainment, and the antics of the island nation’s natives.

“Om-nom-nom….”

Unconditional surrender brought peace.

When dessert was generously offered with the battle cry of “I’ll give you cakes and cookies! Just spare me!” even the magician’s anger started to fade.

Of course, outwardly Camila showed a bit of discontent, saying, “Oh, why did you bring me all this?” but given that the whipped cream on her lips was rising to her ears, it seemed her rage had been completely devoured.

To anyone watching, it was nothing less than a scene of using food to tame a person.

And it was halfway true.

“Take your time eating. Are you sure you won’t choke?”

“It would be nice to have something to drink.”

“What should I brew for you?”

“Black tea!”

Fredrick began preparing the black tea that Camila requested, fulfilling her wish.

With his mood lifted and good material on hand, he decided it was time for some banter as revenge for the magical beating he had earlier.

As he held the mug, glancing over at the sink, he turned to her.

“Is it okay if I just toss a tea bag into the tap water and microwave it? I’m too lazy to get the kettle out.”

“Is that the way you learned in that barbaric country where you don’t know any proper tea?”

“America.”

“In that case, I’ll tell you how witch hunts were carried out in Europe today. First, gather some firewood.”

“I’ll rush out and buy distilled water!”

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Episode 21 – Peace of Our Time

Throughout history, the size of housing has been used as a measure of the resident’s power.

Take the Palace of Versailles, a masterpiece of Baroque architecture.

To cement his absolute monarchy, the King of France commanded the construction of Versailles, showcasing wealth to elevate his authority.

This was back in the days when the “Sun King,” Louis XIV’s power was touching the skies.

A similar example can be found in the early Joseon dynasty’s housing restrictions.

Regulations differentiated housing size, type, materials, decorations, colors, and details based on social status.

As the population of Hanyang gradually increased, and houses, from nobles to commoners, were increasingly grand, signs of property speculation began to creep in.

“Those who disturb the peaceful dawn of the country with luxury will not be forgiven!” The King Sejong, with his focus on scientific victories and muscle pumping, made a grand decree to punish all the excesses of the Han people.

So, historically, it’s proven that a person residing in a large, grand home is wealthy or part of the upper class.

Except for those crumbling and dilapidating old villas where nothing but bubbles are produced and redevelopment news never ring.

Think instead of a country house in the English countryside that spans three acres, or a magnificent mansion in Beverly Hills where the affluent reside.

Built over four centuries ago, the building is filled with antiquities in its corridors.

Open the windows to reveal a panoramic view and a spacious garden where neatly trimmed grass sways like a dance, and one must ascend stone steps after getting out of an old car just to reach the front door.

Now, imagine if the owner of such a mansion monopolized the flat plains near the capital, preventing even the wealthy from gaining a foothold there.

What kind of astounding social background must the homeowner possess?

It’s not a tough question to answer.

Who wouldn’t know Alexandra Petrovna, the “Duke of the Northern Regions” from the Kien Empire?

– Whoosh~!

“Where are the professors?”

“I couldn’t see them. I thought you’d be here with them.”

It is well-known that Duke Alexandra Petrovna captured Camila and took her back to the Empire.

From the beginning, when parting from Ashtistan, the Duke had taken her under their arm like a piece of luggage and headed straight for the Warp Gate. That scene has become a well-circulated story among embassies and various Ministries of Foreign Affairs.

It was a public secret that the prideful aristocrats of the Empire, willing to risk dishonor (truthfully, even I, with no bias, can say it was a bit absurd), had firmly established their base; by now, it was assumed they would be dropping Camila somewhere in the North, training her against the remaining demonic residues and monsters like a game of Whack-a-Mole.

But what is this?

They disappeared after letting the pony loose in a grand mansion somewhere!

In the royal villa in Petrogard, built under the command of the Emperor, who is considered one of the top 5 great rulers in history, only Camila, along with the royal secretary and the mansion’s caretaker, remained.

If that were the case, why the fuss about taking her?

During the moment when I was pondering the perplexing mindset of the Duke,

The kidnapped Camila (who, even when brought to trial by a great judge, would comfortably say, “Where’s the kidnapping here?”) gave a clear answer to my question.

“I think they went to the palace.”

“The palace? Why suddenly there?”

“I can’t say. I only saw them rushing out in the morning after receiving a message from the palace. I couldn’t ask because they seemed busy.”

Camila responded casually, like a kid reciting their breakfast menu.

It’s not precisely correct to say “fireball,” but she was juggling four or so flaming orbs while answering. When I asked why she was doing that, she simply replied, “The professor told me to.”

She hurled the flaming orb, wobbling slightly as she caught the falling one.

“It’s practice for maintaining multiple spells at once,” she explained. “It’s about casting several spells simultaneously.”

“Oh, so each one is a different spell?”

“Yep. Whoa! Almost dropped it.”

“That makes sense….”

It looked like there was indeed something different.

Anyway.

Taking advantage of the Duke’s absence, I approached Camila, who was deep into her magical practice. If the Duke learned I was here, seeing me as the “scum who indiscriminately touched his disciple,” I likely wouldn’t leave on my two feet.

But as the old saying goes, “A crime that hasn’t been discovered is indistinguishable from the right way.”

As long as my mere presence isn’t found out, there’s no reason for the old man to get upset.

“This is the perfect crime.”

“What are you talking about….”

Camila, weaving through her juggling act, spun around, catching an orb that was falling behind her without even looking.

She seemed composed. That only meant she had some level of proficiency in it.

“Hmmm, this is harder than cricket. Anyway! Now that I understand why you are here, I’ll take responsibility and help persuade Lucia.”

She said she would help.

Camila’s cooperation in persuading Lucia would indeed be beneficial. After all, they had formed a relationship that went beyond mere colleagues.

Of course, her knowledge of the peculiar traditions of the Great Empire played a role in her coming to see me.

Conflicts don’t only imply military standoffs. Historical, religious, ethnic, and social tensions fall into the category of conflict as well.

“I must say, that’s very kind of you. Let me briefly explain things.”

I began to share various pieces of information with Camila.

The historical issues caused by the Cult, the blocked harmony due to religious conflicts, the demands of conservative clergy who value tradition versus the progressive clergy demanding reflection.

And all the debates surrounding the current crisis as well.

“The restitution amount isn’t small. It’s set at about 8.6 trillion Won, close to 57 trillion dollars U.S. That figure is estimated by an economic research institute, so it could be somewhat off.”

“Eh…. Would the Holy See be able to shoulder so much? Even the reparations we owe to the Caribbean countries don’t even come close to that.”

“Could it be any other way when you have obligations to repay money across the globe? Plus, we’re discussing matters that go back at least 1,500 years….

“Isn’t it true that Britain only colonized the Caribbean for about 400 years, at most 600?”

“It was the Spaniards who first discovered it. It wasn’t until the Cromwell era that the British and French overtook Spain. The fleet that ventured to Jamaica clashed with the Spanish navy and seized the colony.”

“The cult is even worse. The Papal City-State, with its 1100-year history, existed until quite recently. They had to return it due to reparations demands, and if they had kept it any longer, it would have surely caused severe headaches, especially being near the Great Forest and all the trouble with the elves…”

“Hmm! I get it roughly. So, in the end, the issue is that they can’t handle the money, right?”

“Yes. To put it simply, it’s about the economy.”

To put it bluntly, the cult had neither the ability nor the intention to repay the astronomical amount they owed.

The sum was so huge that even if they collected and sold all the antiques, relics, and holy items located in the holy land of Lateran, they might still not be able to repay it.

In the midst of all this, Lucia was wielding a mace, channeling her inner Gung Ye, casting Holy-Geomancy.

The countries that were victims seemed to think it was time to extract some profits, recklessly inflating the reparations demand to an absurd figure of 62 trillion shillings.

Even the cult was reacting with indignation, asking, “Are you robbing us or what?”

It was a sight too painful to witness.

“I mean, they kept asking for reparations, but they never thought they would actually have to give it, right? The Holy See isn’t exactly an easy target to milk for money.”

“And yet, there seems to be a chance this time? There’s actually a 1 in 14,000,605 possibility that they could receive reparations.”

I could only nod in agreement. Of course, I understood the perspective of those governments to some extent.

“A developed country can say, ‘We don’t need your measly money,’ but for developing countries, it’s a different matter. It’s not like they have no reason to demand it, and the amount is quite substantial.”

“What do you mean by ‘desperate’ exactly?”

“For example, the small nations caught between the Eastern and Mauritania Continent. Countries that were trampled by the Order of the Holy Knights centuries ago because they wouldn’t yield territory during the Eastern Expedition. If we were to liken their situation to Earth, it would be something like Nepal or Tibet. They have a pretty unfortunate status.”

They have plenty of resources, but no technology or capital to develop them. Bringing in foreign companies is tough since investors back off, frightened by the rugged mountainous terrain.

Meanwhile, there are dictators ruling, rebels resisting, dark magicians thriving in the chaos, and gangs trafficking kidnapped people to dark magicians for illegal synthesis potions.

Corrupt warlords have lost all control, and charlatans are trying to make a quick buck off the suffering residents. All this mess is intertwined…

Camila, the scholar well-versed in conflict, summed up the chaotic situation in one sentence.

“It’s like Far Cry 4. In South America, it’d be Ghost Recon.”

“Can we lay off the games?”

“Why? It makes it easier to understand. That southern Mauritania? The neighborhoods that got closed off due to contamination? They look just like the Stalker series. Or maybe The Division.”

“….”

I was left speechless at Camila’s sparkling eyes that screamed “I really don’t know.” Sigh.

I really can’t make heads or tails of this.

“Anyway, to other countries, reparations are more than just compensation for a painful history; it’s also an opportunity to rebuild a declining nation. For some countries, it’s a lifeline. Conversely, the cult wants to solve the problem as slowly as possible. That’s beneficial for them too. They need ample time to properly reflect on past events.”

“That makes sense.”

“I don’t know if that will take years or decades….”

There are too many incidents and issues to investigate in just a few months. At least a few years are needed to look through records and consult experts.

Of course, how to define the reparations based on the results of the investigations, who will receive them, and whether the parties involved will be willing to wait for a long time are matters for later consideration.

For now, the more pressing matter was preventing Lucia from smashing the heads of the bishop and the cardinal.

I had a thorough discussion with Camila and made plans.

When to visit Lucia, what arguments to use, and what counterarguments could arise, etc.

Alongside discussing the most crucial obstacle as well.

“Going to Lateran should be as soon as possible. But the real issue is, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Whether we get caught by the Duke or not.”

“Hmm…!”

Camila made a rather serious expression, resting her chin on her hand. I too crossed my arms, nervously leaning on one leg.

Everyone knew that Alexandra Petrovna was the one holding Camila’s leash. The Duke, their priest, was currently quite disappointed in his disciple due to an incident in Ashtistan (which, by the way, was a misunderstanding).

He dragged her all the way to the Empire for ‘rehabilitation,’ but what if the disciple suddenly declared, “Goodbye, Professor! I’m off to seek freedom and fine dining!” and fled?

It was highly likely that the former archmage who once set the heart of the cult, the Holy Land of Lateran, ablaze would begin his pursuit. And very likely, I would be chased too.

Hmm.

But there really is no other way.

“I guess we just have to go as things are.”

“Are you sure that’s okay? The professor has a fiery temper….”

As I muttered this calmly, Camila asked with a hint of worry.

“It can’t be helped. It’d be ridiculous to let a fear of maggots stop you from making kimchi.”

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to signal that there was nothing to worry about.

“Generally, it’s easier to just do something and pray for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”

“I doubt they’d grant forgiveness.”

“What can they do? Just because they torched a holy land a hundred years ago doesn’t mean the cult will show up and start casting spells. Or do you think they’ll come smashing the cathedral to catch you hiding? Honestly, maybe a hundred years ago, but would they really wreak havoc in a foreign capital at that age?”

“They would break your and the child’s legs.”

“Right. At that point, they might as well make us friends in stupidly embarrassing circumstances, right? Wait a sec?”

Suddenly, I turned my head, and there was the Duke.

What the heck is this?

Why is this old man here?

“…!”

The young disciple half-fainted with drool when the archmage appeared, his mysterious silver hair dancing in the air.

The fireballs he had been juggling erupted into the air, crashing down upon the grass and onto his head.

Boom! The last fireball landed right on the plump backside of the fallen Camila.

-Swoosh…!

“Kyahhhhh, Pro, Professor…!”

That wasn’t all.

As the magic fell to the ground, taking a strange trajectory, it smacked her butt hard, causing even more fireballs to rise again. It was probably magic summoned by the Duke, making it pretty clear that she was the only suspect.

An avalanche of magic blessings came crashing down on his disciple.

Wiping her tears and snot, the touched disciple began rolling around on the grass.

I was caught.

“How did Duke come to be here…?”

As I stuttered in fear like a trembling aspen, the archmage casually brushed her disheveled hair aside and delivered a gruff reply.

“I cast a spell just in case that reckless disciple tried to sneak away. The alarm went off, but since you didn’t leave, I thought an outsider had intruded.”

Alexandra Petrovna closed her eyes, then clicked her tongue in discontent.

“…I hoped it wouldn’t be the case, but here you are, after all.”

An awkward smile appeared on my face.

I wasn’t laughing because I wanted to.

“Ah, haha….”

The archmage’s expression darkened.

Her beauty was not unblemished, but it was more than enough to take someone down. Especially if it was someone who had touched her disciple’s chest. Of course, I’m innocent here, and the Duke misunderstood on her own.

“I’ll listen to your circumstances later….”

“…….”

“I’ll expect you to give me ten reasons why I shouldn’t fry you to a crisp.”

As I looked at the blood vessels bulging on Alexandra Petrovna’s forehead and her fiercely glaring blue eyes, I thought.

To be honest,

If I’m going to die anyway, is it better to at least try to touch a little before that?

Of course, that was nonsense.

 

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