A Genius Mage Hides His Origins - A Genius Mage Hides His Origins chapter 23

23 – Duality

For those boarding the Yero, they usually pack up all kinds of belongings and leave.

Among them, there were cases where people carried a third hand—named Sijong—even if they lacked bags, and it was not uncommon.

Carrying just one bag, my situation of crossing the sea seemed somewhat noisy.

I still had only one leather bag with a handle, and that was all my luggage.

Spellbooks. Identification. Clothes to change into, and so on. The items inside all had their own uses.

In fact, partly because there was no financial room to add new items, maintaining the optimal form was good anyway.

However, there were also some items that were far from useful.

New Year’s gifts, clothes, and a scarf that I had received.

And the letter left by Mrs. Dieman.

As I was organizing my belongings while the train slowed down for a stop, I began to observe the letter from various angles.

“Hmm.”

If I am still looking at this letter, Mrs. Dieman’s earnest request comes vividly to mind.

‘Even if you don’t tell your family, it’s okay, just accept it.’ That was it.

Mrs. Dieman was likely subjected to repatriation measures with a high probability.

Now, whether I keep this letter for a lifetime or leave it on the roadside, there is no way for the wife to know.

Of course, it probably won’t happen.

But it was also true that it was ambiguous to vow, ‘I’ll tell my family.’

[To Bernhard, Werner]

It’s understandable since only the names of the husband and son were written on the letter envelope.

Finding a person with just a name, not even a full name, would never be an easy task.

“…Time will solve it.”

Chiiiyik—

At the same time as my body slowly leaned forward, the sound of heated steam struck my ears.

People dozing off in the third-class cabin woke up one by one, gathering their belongings with a strange expectation.

Now, a familiar atmosphere experienced several times.

The atmosphere of arrival.

Outside the window, the bustling energy of Prussian Station greeted me.

Running alongside the train, I lifted my suitcase, waving back at the children waving hands from every window.

Today is August 27th. The weather is clear.

#August 27th. Clear.

Finally!

The urge to shout and cheer while punching the sky dominated my mind the moment I stepped off the train.

But I refrained.

To me, Prussia was a dream destination, but to most, it was just the hometown where they were born and raised, the everyday workplace.

As if to prove a point, the majority of people getting off the train dispersed towards various parts of the city, each wearing expressions that seemed either bored or dry.

A scene repeated consistently at every station en route to Auris.

The evidence that the railway was a practical means of transportation even for the locals.

But I saw it.

Not just me, but also the appearance of a few young men with excited faces, unfamiliar to the surroundings.

Presumably, young men who came from afar harboring the ambitions of magicians.

The headquarters of magic.

The Federal Magical University founded by the father of magical studies, Jean-Pierre Ochlerme. The city of learning where this historic institution was located.

No matter what anyone said, Prussia was such a place.

“All right.”

I adjusted my hat and straightened my attire.

I didn’t bother covering my gray hair.

I had rummaged through magical books from distant imperial lands. Finally arriving in the city of magic to pursue my dream as a magician, the penalty of just the color of my hair was trivial.

Rather, he harbored an aspiration.

“Become the first gray-haired wizard.”

Of course, he had to thoroughly conceal his imperial origins. It seemed prudent to quickly obtain a new identification card with a federal address as the place of residence.

So, he stepped out of the station and headed towards downtown Fraussen.

The initial impression of the city could be summed up in one word: ‘neat.’

In contrast to port cities like Oris, where the empire expanded the city according to the natural environment, Fraussen had its foundations in a vast plain surrounded by rugged mountains.

A meticulously planned city.

The fact was affirmed by the neatly divided plots and avenues crossing the city in straight lines.

“Finding the way should be easy.”

This time, he felt reassured that he wouldn’t get lost.

Starting from Fraussen Station, he walked along the largest avenue that traversed the heart of the city.

The path connecting the station, the square, and the Federal Magic University in a straight line.

Clearly visible landmarks seemed to instantly reveal the history of Fraussen.

As he slowly walked towards the city center, lost in thought,

He hadn’t yet decided on his destination.

In his hand, he held a single address, but he was still undecided whether he should head to the given address.

[ Kram St. 15, 20178 Fraussen ]

“Hmm.”

The address pointed to none other than Benjamin’s hometown.

Mrs. Susan Oslo and the four daughters, excluding Dorothy, are said to live here.

“It’s true that I should visit at least once.”

But what has plunged me into contemplation is the question of ‘Is it really the right time?’

Benjamin informed the federal families of my existence through a letter.

However, I wouldn’t have notified them that I am coming over.

With the foundation of my life not yet established, I worry that showing up unannounced would only cause confusion.

“Maybe it’s better to find a job within Prussia.”

I continued to ponder endlessly.

Grumble―

A distinct rumbling sound echoed from my stomach.

Only then did I recall that over the past month spent in the mines, I had truly maintained the worst dietary habits.

*

Bubble, bubble, bubble.

“Here is the steak with the Béarnaise sauce you ordered.”

“T-Thank you.”

A waiter, dressed neatly with gloves, placed the plate on the table.

Despite his elegant movements, his appearance was not particularly refined, but why did that matter?

There’s meat right in front of me.

I was hungry. So, after glancing around, I entered the most noticeable restaurant nearby. And, as if enchanted, I placed an order.

Just that would allow me to eat meat.

For a month, disguised as stones wrapped in bread and leather camouflaged as jerky, I sustained myself. In that moment, I had forgotten the obvious fact that when you place an order, food arrives.

I held a fork and knife, both tinged with a silvery hue, in each hand.

Undoubtedly, meat is the king of all foods, and roasted meat is the king among kings.

On the plate now lay a king wearing a crimson crown, alluringly.

I could endure it no longer.

Swoosh. Swiftly.

After cutting the steak and generously dipping it in sauce, I put it in my mouth.

“…!”

A slight tanginess, accompanied by a strong meaty aroma, and even a violent texture assaulting the senses.

It felt like my thoughts were paralyzed.

Could this be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in my life?

From that moment on, my arms did not stop.

Cutting, dipping, eating.

Although the atmosphere in the restaurant was generally pleasant, with people enjoying their meals while engaging in slow conversations, for me, the fork and knife were the only companions for conversation.

As if closing my eyes to everything else, I emptied one plate.

“Huuu….”

An indescribable sense of satisfaction washed over me.

However, if my memory serves me right, there seemed to be a separate section on the menu for ‘desserts.’

Should I also order dessert?

It was a time of greater contemplation and anguish than deciding whether to visit Benjamin’s ancestral home.

A group of young people rushed into the bustling cafe and took a seat at a table near me.

I reflexively glanced at their table.

I had no choice but to do so.

There were about eight young people dressed in school uniforms, and their topic of conversation was the kind that couldn’t help but catch your attention.

“Thank you for joining our ‘meal and discussion forum for intellectual youth.’ I will present today’s topic in advance.”

The oldest-looking young man in the group seemed to be the leader.

His next words made me forget to even order dessert as I focused on their conversation.

“Is light made of particles or waves?”

From Noble mtl dot com

*

As I set down my utensils and concentrated on their conversation, I was able to roughly grasp the composition of this bizarre group called the “meal and discussion forum for intellectual youth.”

Six ordinary students.

One girl who seemed to be the secretary or recorder, not participating in the discussions but constantly jotting something down.

And one young man who looked like a student from the School of Magic.

Setting aside the fact that the young man’s gaze kept drifting towards the girl, it was quite interesting to think that a debate related to magic was taking place in an ordinary restaurant in the middle of the city.

“Isn’t light just light?”

“I think light is made of particles. Everything is composed of particles, right? If you look closely, light will be like that too.”

“Maybe light is not a particle, but a wave. Like sound is a wave. It seems to have more of a wave nature than a material one.”

The level of the debate couldn’t be considered high even with empty words.

Those students knew less than I did, whose acceptance of the latest theories was painfully slow.

Of course, the university student was clearly different.

“Thank you for your valuable opinions. The answer lies in waves. In the double-slit experiment conducted decades ago, when light was shot through two slits, an interference pattern appeared. It’s a characteristic of waves. Since then, various experiments have been conducted to prove the wave nature of light.”

“Wow!”

“Lena, did I explain it properly?”

A logical explanation flowed effortlessly from her lips.

As the students were amazed and applauded, the college student smirked and threw a sarcastic remark at the female student.

Her expression resembled mine.

Light is indeed a wave.

Is it really that easy to come to such a conclusion?

It was when I was engrossed, twirling my fork, trying to calm my gaze.

A man who had been eavesdropping on the discussion from the seat next to mine slowly stood up.

“I can’t stand the nonsense of theorists.”

He muttered to himself.