Dark Fantasy Normalized – Chapter 65

“Hmm… Does even the paper calendar break down?”

I was surprised when I checked the calendar today after getting up.

What have I done for over a month to pass so quickly?

Since I was appointed as a Mage at the Gray Mage Tower.

During that time, not a single task from my originally hopeful list titled [Things to Do Once I Become a Mage Tower Mage★♥] has been accomplished.

I wanted to check the change in citizen’s attitudes depending on whether I wore the Mage Tower robe.

Or try wearing the robe in a tense situation as if it were a badge of honor.

You know, those very fulfilling and thrilling tasks.

“Why do I have so many things to do?”

Contrary to my expectations, the frantic schedule began right after I became an honorary Mage.

It’s not the Tower’s fault.

The countless requests for handshakes from the Blue and Green Mage Towers before they left.

And various factors led the Gray Mage Tower to maintain an excessively courteous attitude towards me.

“Are there any points I need to be aware of as an honorary Mage of the Gray Mage Tower, and a mindset I must uphold?”

“Well, of course there are things to be aware of!”

“Ugh, memorizing again? What is that?”

“Remember that we are proud of you!”

“What?”

“Act with the mindset that our tower is your mirror!”

“That’s the opposite of what you said.”

“Oops! Did I say it that way? Sorry for such a presumptuous statement!”

“No, you said the tower is my mirror.”

“Oh, in that case, I was right.”

“…”

Do whatever you want, Ricir.

That was the general stance of the Gray Mages towards me.

While I felt grateful, my inner voice screamed that I better not go overboard and eat too much sweet food, or I would surely ruin my health.

I must not forget.

That their evaluation of me is excessively inflated.

The Gray Mage Tower treats me as if I were the greatest genius in history, one who even mocks deities.

But in reality?

I’m a rookie who doesn’t even grasp basic magical theory and just shed my identity as a bastard to acquire a new name card in society.

If I let my brain melt from indulgence and go wild doing whatever I want, I would be broke in no time.

Thus, right after my appointment, I spent my time honing the qualities suitable for an honorary Mage.

Studying the history of the Mage Tower, its external standings, matters to be mindful of, and behaviors I should embody.

And in any free time I could muster, I was also gaining the fundamentals of magic with Lord Meltas.

Maybe it was because I had already internalized it, but the process of accepting theories and filling in the gaps wasn’t as difficult as I had worried it would be.

This morning, thanks to Lord Meltas’ generosity, I was once again in magic class.

“Lord Meltas, thank you once again for taking this precious time.”

“Do you know what the masters have been saying about this lately?”

“Ugh. I feel sorry already, whatever it is.”

“They condemned it for not monopolizing you. It almost went to trial.”

“Ugh.”

“Anyway, the gist is that you have no reason to be thanking me. There are plenty of people wishing to smear their saliva on you, and as one of those, I feel tremendous gratification at this opportunity.”

“You are truly an admirable scholar, Lord Meltas. It suddenly reminds me of my Master.”

“Ahem. I’d appreciate it if you refrain from mentioning your Master in front of me.”

“Please don’t talk like a jealous childhood friend. It’s truly hard for me.”

“Hey, I’m curious. If your Master had taught you this content, how do you think it would have been?”

“Maybe they would have made me duel with Senior Mundum.”

“…I can’t even imagine what kind of class that would be.”

As the time spent learning from Lord Meltas began to exceed that of my Master, I too started harboring considerable doubts.

So.

Who is the real Master now?

But that wonder didn’t last long.

The important factor wasn’t how much I was taught but what I received.

When I truly had nothing, the one who first acknowledged me and reached out was my Master.

If it weren’t for my Master, I would never have realized my own potential or gotten this far.

Lord Meltas even nodded, recalling how he initially dismissed me as a bastard.

“Ugh… But I’m confident I can treat you better…”

Amidst this, I quickly decided to forget the jealous childhood friend-like reaction.

The lesson began, and about an hour had passed.

“Teaching basics to Ricir; is there any greater waste than that?”

“None. Definitely none. If it were me…”

“That’s nice, but if it were me then…”

Masters began to gather one by one, having seen us pass by, forming a crowd to pressure Lord Meltas.

Masters became armchair critics as they channeled the Duelists of Tower Park, nitpicking every little thing, creating quite a spectacle.

Lord Meltas diligently ignored them and summarized the class content.

“Alright, since it’s noisy around, let’s wrap it up for today. Oh, right. Ricir. Don’t forget what I just said. The back alleys north of Bondales seem rather suspicious these days, so if you have to go there, be cautious.”

“Understood.”

“And, I repeat, I respect your judgment to slowly build your foundation from the basics. I’m sure you’ve already felt aspects like burnout, but the path you wish to take from now on will be much more arduous than before.”

“Indeed.”

“No matter what, you can’t just easily pass it like before. Always maintain the humble beginner’s mindset you have now. Dare I say, if you don’t-”

“Ah, Lord Meltas, I’m sorry. Just a moment-”

At that moment, while I was listening to Lord Meltas’ insightful advice, I was abruptly interrupted, frowning slightly.

“Is something the matter?”

“My mana is trying to increase again. Just a moment, I’ll handle it with Blue Breath. I feel like if I leave it as is, I won’t be able to manage it.”

“…”

“Ah! I’m sorry for making you wait. Please continue your thoughts.”

“…Regardless of what anyone says, I want to say go your own way.”

“Hmm? Seems a bit different from what you said earlier-”

“Shut up. Just take it that way.”

Phew.

Lord Meltas let out a deeper sigh than when he was being hounded by the Duelists of Tower Park.

“That growth of mana, didn’t you say it’s a side effect that comes with using the power of normalization?”

Lord Meltas asked me, bewildered.

I responded, looking equally confused.

“Indeed. It seems there’s something else going on that I cannot comprehend.”

Just when I thought I finally figured out the villain’s normalization reaction, this happens.

What is this, if not a full-blown fit?

‘Could it be? That the normalization already achieved is causing a chain reaction by affecting somewhere else?’

Upon sharing that possibility, Lord Meltas went, “Hah, hah, hah,” with an airy sound.

“Ricir, do you know? By the way, it took me 60 years to come this far.”

“…I’m sorry.”

For some reason, I felt compelled to bow deeply and apologize to Lord Meltas.

It was winter.

*

A week went by again.

“Are Pamon and Rona doing well? They’ve been so busy they haven’t shown their faces lately. Well, it’s not like I’m in a position to talk, stuck here in the Tower.”

Still, life at the Tower was so busy that I couldn’t even spare a moment to meet with my colleagues.

But it wasn’t all drawbacks either.

“Damn. This is comfy. Nice. Free room in the Tower.”

Since the Gerhen incident, I had still been residing in the quarters the Tower provided.

This space prepared for Masters and esteemed guests was undoubtedly better than the residence I used to stay in Sector 9.

Especially since it’s free.

If I could, I would love to settle in permanently.

But who am I?

I’m the kind of person who knows what courtesy is. Thus, I’m a great person.

I couldn’t simply rely on the Tower’s goodwill to support my basic living.

Scholarship students pay tuition fees and lose themselves in their studies.

Masters achieve academic accomplishments to bring tangible benefits to the Tower.

If I truly wanted to consider myself a part of the Tower, I shouldn’t take for granted the rights my colleagues worked hard to acquire.

In other words-

“Can’t I just do my fair share?”

Unlike the scholars who can achieve results through studies, or the Masters who attain academic success, I had no way to contribute to the Tower.

So, was there a way for me to contribute to the Tower?

There was.

*

The Tower, being nestled in a city teeming with all kinds of interest groups, was not a completely independent institution.

For its well-being, interactions with the outside world were inevitable.

The most prominent issue was money.

The Tower, to put it bluntly, was a money-devouring monster.

The costs of research and facility maintenance within the Tower amounted to astronomical figures.

There was a limit to covering it just with students’ tuitions, so the Tower solved its funding issues through various means.

Individuals aligned in understanding were present in this regard.

A Tower overflowing with honor and power yet short on money.

Merchants and lower nobles lacking fame and power but swimming in cash.

By donating large sums to the Tower, they maintained a good relationship.

In return, the Tower became their powerful sponsor, and they served as the Tower’s financial backers.

Polda, who led a mid-sized merchant group, was one of the sponsors of the Tower.

As her group rapidly grew, she became a sponsor of the Tower as her influence couldn’t keep up with her wealth.

“Why let the money get sucked dry by the city nobles and criminal organizations? Might as well give it to the Tower!”

Was her calculation.

It should take some guts to fleece the Tower’s sponsors if you’re a city noble or criminal organization, right?

For example, that’s how it works.

The Tower provided services like, “Oh no, who’s bothering our sponsor?”

That was how the Tower, enjoying knowledge as a weapon, chose to survive.

Of course.

Given the Tower’s reputation, help provided to sponsors was tightly regulated.

1. It must not have a political nature.

2. It must not be aggressive in nature.

3. It should be a situation requiring magical assistance.

Polda currently judged that her situation met all those criteria and approached the Tower.

“The Red Boxes are storing our goods, but we can’t get in touch with them.”

The Red Boxes were warehouse operators active in the area north of Bondales.

It was an open secret that they were connected to the ‘Leather Chain’, the crime organization dominating the northern part of Bondales, yet many merchants had no choice but to partner with them.

There were only a handful of groups in Bondales that could provide storage for large quantities of goods to outsiders.

Merchants risked themselves to work with the Red Boxes.

And were completely stripped by the city nobles.

Choices for merchants trapped in this hellish multiple-choice exam were set.

“I want to go directly to their hideout to negotiate, but I’ve heard things are rough over there lately. So, I’m asking for the Tower’s assistance without shame.”

Polda’s request was straightforward.

“Please accompany me to that difficult negotiation and lend some force.”

The Tower considered it.

Did Polda’s request have a political nature?

No.

Then is it aggressive?

No.

Did it require magical assistance?

– ‘I know the warehouse where the goods are stored. There are barriers set up, so I would like help breaking them to retrieve the goods if needed.’

Yes.

Thus, the Tower decided to provide its sponsor with the “Oh no, who’s bothering our sponsor?” service.

I volunteered for it.

*

“I am the honorary Mage of the Tower responsible for solving this issue, Ricir. Nice to meet you.”

“…Nice to meet you.”

Polda shook hands with the young Mage and smiled warmly.

‘Are you kidding?’

At least that’s how it appeared on the surface.

Polda recalled the sponsorship funds she had sent to the Tower up until now.

She thought it was enough to be treated well, though not enough to boast.

Surely they would send a regular Mage to help, she thought.

But what was this?

“An honorary Mage?”

It sounded nice.

But the young man’s impression.

‘He’s cute but-’

His downright baby face had no signs of wear whatsoever.

That was it. He was too young.

To Polda’s knowledge, Mages of his age would barely reach the fourth rank.

Definitely not a level to be regarded as a proper Mage.

What kind of cases are there for such a Mage to receive an honorary position from the Tower?

More dishonorable scenarios than honorable ones popped up in her mind.

Polda thought of Kal, the head of the Red Boxes, and his minions.

What were supposed to be warehouse operators were practically mercenaries.

When thinking they’d ensure the safety of her goods, she felt reassured, but now reflecting back, she couldn’t believe she’d entrusted her goods to such individuals.

Polda imagined the worst-case scenario.

Could this rookie resolve that situation?

“…”

Not a single scenario came to mind.

Could this inexperienced lad subdue the ruthless mercenaries?

It seemed that simply having such a rookie Mage by her side could create new problems that wouldn’t have existed otherwise.

The meaning of having a Mage from the Tower crashing her business was undoubtedly understood by the bandits as well.

“Damn it.”

What now?

As I contemplated, we arrived at the area where the Red Boxes’ business was located, Sector 13.

The dreary atmosphere of the area.

Those walking the unpaved, litter-strewn streets wore expressions filled with the lawlessness of the place.

That’s when the young Mage’s refined appearance especially stood out.

If he hadn’t been draped in the Gray Mage Tower’s robe, trouble would have found him long ago.

“Let’s go.”

Yet, Ricir strode forward, appearing carefree and without a shred of tension.

“Ah, uh…”

Polda fidgeted anxiously as she followed behind him.

Their destination was a bar hidden in a remote part of Sector 13.

Kal, the leader of the Red Boxes, usually spent his time here in one of the businesses he owned.

“…”

In a corner of the empty establishment sat a bald man with a large scar across his head.

Kal.

He was currently checking ledgers with a mountain of coins piled on the table.

“…”

He noticed Polda and turned his gaze toward her.

No greeting was offered.

His posture was unapologetically bold for someone who had made off with someone else’s belongings and ignored communication.

In fact, he showed displeasure toward Polda.

To an observer, it might seem that Polda was the one trying to steal her things back.

In reality, Kal might indeed think that.

Since the goods were now his own, perhaps he thought Polda had come to take them.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ignored her contact until now.

“Damn it.”

Polda fought against the mounting pressure and brought up the main issue.

A completely reasonable and rational demand to return the goods I paid for to store in your warehouse.

“It’s not possible right now.”

A wholly unreasonable and irrational reply came back.

“There’s no doing or not doing! I’m a customer using your warehouse after having paid the appropriate price! So this isn’t a request; it’s a fair demand, and you have an obligation to comply!”

“Hey, customer. We have our circumstances too. Acting like this makes it difficult for us.”

Kal glared at Polda.

Then his gaze turned to Ricir.

A Gray robe.

And a baby face.

Ugh.

A sneer spread across his lips.

“Well, you’ve brought a seriously fearsome fixer, haven’t you?”

“…”

Polda’s expression openly twisted.

The only thought in her mind at this moment was one.

If only a proper Mage had come, Kal wouldn’t be acting like this.

“It seems you’ve come here with the intention of playing hardball without considering our situation- if that’s the case, we too have our reservations.”

Kal kicked the table leg.

Clatter.

The patrons, who had been filling the tavern, stood up and surrounded them.

“You’ve got to be kidding. You’re not seriously thinking of touching a Mage from the Tower, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s just a polite request to have a conversation. You might want to leave while you can.”

Polda’s worst fears came to light in real-time.

Ricir’s playful demeanor inadvertently sparked problems that hadn’t even existed before.

How dare these mere mercenaries threaten a Mage from the Tower?

At that moment.

Ricir stepped forward and addressed Kal.

“I am Ricir, an honorary Mage from the Gray Mage Tower, here to mediate this issue. May we discuss it for a moment?”

Polda screamed internally.

Now? Right now you choose to step forward?

Are you out of your mind?

Sure enough.

Kal burst out laughing dismissively.

Bang!

He slammed the table threatfully.

With a resounding crash, a heavy and uncomfortable silence enveloped the room.

“Ricir…”

Just then, Kal’s eyes glazed over, slowly chewing through the name.

“…!”

He abruptly stood and gestured for Ricir to take a seat.

“R-Ricir! Ah, please sit!”

It wasn’t just Kal.

Everyone in the place bowed their heads to Ricir.

“…?”

What’s going on?

What just happened?

‘Ricir? Am I the only one clueless about that name?’

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[The subject is under the control of the spell of authority.]

[The subject is under the control of the spell of authority.]

[The subject is under the control of the spell of authority.]

[The subject is under the control of the spell of authority.]

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