“Construction plans are prioritized by suitability first, cost-effectiveness second, and accessibility third, depending on their purpose. For example, let’s assume you are participating in a design competition for a public building.”

The professor lifted only his eyes. His glaring gaze flickered behind his glasses, scanning the students.

“I already know exactly what blockheads like you, obsessed with appearances, are thinking. Public building or not, you’d make the basic style Renaissance or Gothic, then design it to be as extravagant and impressive-looking as possible. And on the blueprints you’d cram in every ridiculous detail imaginable until nobody could even tell what they’re looking at.”

The classroom fell deathly silent under the professor’s scathing criticism.

“Do you know how many entries like that I see whenever I judge a competition? Every blueprint looks exactly the same. I’m sick of it. My eyes feel like they’re rotting.”

Someone hesitantly raised their hand. The students’ gazes shifted toward him.

“Oh, today’s punching bag has appeared.”

Someone whispered under their breath.

“Professor… are you saying that design would be rejected?”

“You’re asking an obvious question. Setting aside feasibility, it’s already a failure in suitability and a negative in terms of cost-effectiveness.”

“Could you tell me the detailed reason why…”

“Are your earholes blocked? Do you think I have so much spare time that I have to repeat what I just said for your benefit?”

“I-I heard what you said, but I wanted a more detailed explanation…”

“Now, listen closely, Mr. Rock. Do you have the confidence to persuade a client to accept astronomical construction costs and timelines? How will you find stonemasons? What’s the plan for maintenance costs? Even if you sold hundreds of you, it wouldn’t cover it. Ah, since your earholes are blocked and your head is filled with unprocessed stone, even thousands of you wouldn’t be enough.”

“…I-I’m sorry.”

“Just scribbling things down isn’t everything. Your blueprints are worse than scraps of toilet paper. Why? You’ve drawn so much nonsense on them that you can’t even blow your nose with them. A blank sheet would be more useful.”

***

It was an architectural design class I took in my second year.

The professor was infamous for his brutal criticsm and unhelpful teaching style, but I learned a lot from him.

After that, gothic architecture stopped being the first thing that came to mind whenever I started designing something.

Of course, I applied it in parts.

After all, architecture students are bound to be crazy about the gothic style.

“Sigh…”

I let out a sigh while resting my chin on my hand.

This was a world where magic, rather than science, had advanced.

Which meant astronomical construction costs and timelines could literally be reduced by magic.

To the extent that it was possible to rebuild the Imperial Castle, destroyed by magic beasts, in just one year, and in the gothic style, no less.

It was a dream world for an architecture student, since I could try almost anything I wanted without considering realistic limitations.

‘Then why haven’t I made any progress after two whole days?’

I wasn’t asking for much.

[Level 3: Adrianne began to conceive a perfect proposal.]

Unlike that ridiculous command suggested, there was no such thing as a “perfect proposal”.

‘Why put effort into a plan that’s going to be thrown away anyway? I’m not an idiot.’

I’d originally intended to do the bare minimum, just enough to avoid making it look like garbage.

However, it didn’t take long for me to realize.

The fact that ‘just making it look decent’ is only possible when backed by knowledge.

There were far too many unfamiliar building materials.

I had no way of knowing which magical techniques were required to achieve the construction methods I had in mind.

Even if I set everything aside and tried to start with the design, I couldn’t draw a single line while worrying about whether it was even possible.

So I summoned the spirits, but…

• Huh? Sprinkler? What’s that?
• It literally says right there: a device that releases water at set intervals, you water-brained idiot.
• …Has this ignorant fire lizard gone mad? Who do you dare call a water-idiot?
• Are you two going to keep fighting? I believe I clearly told you a moment ago that I would rip your mouths open with a wind cutter.
• Eeek, sorry, Sylph. But why would they want to make this? Can’t they just pull water from a nearby lake and spray it?
• Hmm, perhaps they’re using a device because doing that is difficult?
• Temperature regulation using thermal radiation? What the hell? Are humans idiots? They can’t even regulate their own temperature?
• You ignorant fire lizard, humans can’t regulate their body temperature. No, do I really have to tell you this? I should have a word with Rianne. She’d be better off terminating the contract with this ignorant fire lizard as soon as possible.
• …The hell? Hey, you. Come outside. Let’s settle this.
• Sure, go fight somewhere else. But Gnome, don’t you have anything to say?
• …….
• Nothing at all? I see

The mana of spirits was completely different in nature from human mana, so it wasn’t helpful.

That was the conclusion I reached over the course of yesterday.

Since I was scheduled to meet Leonhart in five days, there were only three days left.

Now, I had no choice but to find out how buildings here were constructed by looking through blueprints and plans one by one.

I buried my face against the desk and rubbed my forehead across it.

‘Sigh, I really don’t want to do this…’

At that moment, the useless four great spirits vanished all at once.

As soon as I straightened my back, I heard someone approaching.

Knock, knock

“Come in.”

The study door opened, and the butler entered carrying a bundle of things in his arms while pulling a trolley.

“Master, these are the construction proposals held by the family.”

Thud.

Documents piled up on the wide wooden desk.

“…That’s a lot.”

“Given the long history of the family, it’s only natural that there are many.”

“You didn’t need to bring all of them.”

“That is why I only brought those from the last five years.”

I see…

I skimmed through the documents.

The proposal format, handwriting, and the seal stamped at the end were almost identical.

“Fabius? Most of these were sent from them.”

“They’re the construction guild the family does business with.”

“Don’t other guilds bid for the projects?”

“We haven’t specifically requested bids.”

A house as prestigious as the Ivrante family would already have well-established design preferences. And with more money than they could spend, there was little reason to worry about cutting costs.

Naturally, they wouldn’t bother with competitive bidding.

‘It would just create more work.’

“How are proposals from Fabius handled?”

“After the estate manager reviews them and requests approval, I allocate the budget.”

“So you don’t check the details.”

“I approved them as long as they were within the budget range, but is there a problem?”

The butler wasn’t the type to collude with a construction guild to embezzle funds, so the estate manager must be the problem.

“Dismiss the estate manager.”

“…Did he commit embezzlement?”

I held out two of the proposals I had been looking at.

“This one is for a single-story stable. The one beside it is for a four-story villa. Completely different scales, yet the labor costs are almost identical.”

“That is indeed true…”

“Fabius probably has a separate pricing template just for House Ivrante. The manager gives them the budget, they tweak a few numbers, and submit the proposal.”

“….”

“From now on, switch to a competitive bidding system. And have every proposal that’s submitted reviewed at random by at least two estate managers.”

The butler, who had been examining the proposals with a furrowed brow, suddenly turned his gaze toward me.

“By the way, did you just discover the embezzlement? From all these documents?”

If you spend enough time being worked to death under a professor famous for construction audits, you eventually learn to tell whether a contractor has been playing games just by looking at the paperwork.

I could probably uncover more irregularities if I dug deeper, but I had no intention of doing so.

I’m busy as hell; where would I find the time to cross-reference every list?

It’s not like the Ivrante family would go bankrupt without this money.

“…I got lucky.”

“I understand. I shall fire the current estate manager and hire two additional ones. Do you have any further instructions?”

[Level 3: (Nodding) How are preparations for Fiache’s Academy enrollment progressing?]

“How are preparations for Piache’s Academy enrollment progressing?”

“Preparations are complete, but we haven’t submitted the paperwork.”

“Why?”

“Since you mentioned withholding the donation, I thought you had changed your mind. Am I mistaken?”

Ah, there was the donation issue. I had completely forgotten about it, preoccupied with the proposal.

[Level 3: (Irritatedly) Who told you to make decisions on your own?]

“Who told you to make decisions on your own?”

“…My apologies.”

“Submit Fiache’s enrollment documents and proceed with the donation as planned.”

“In that case, may I send the two of them back?”

“Two of who?”

“Dean Franklin and Professor Ruspell have been waiting in the drawing room for about two hours. It seems they visited to request the donation.”

To think Ruspell waited for two hours and didn’t blow up this mansion… he really has changed.

A heavy weight of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach.

I glared at the innocent butler for no reason.

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

“Because you told me there was no need to notify you of guests who visit without an appointment.”

“Ah… ahh, I did say that…”

Startled, I quickly checked the butler’s reaction.

But he remained indifferent, like a loyal servant who harbors no doubt about his master’s actions.

“Bring them in.”

“Yes, Master.”

A moment later.

Oswald and Ruspell arrived at the study, guided by the butler.

Despite waiting for two hours, Oswald didn’t seem angry at all. He bowed politely.

“Thank you for sparing your precious time for us, who have come abruptly without an appointment. Your Grace… Professor Ruspell? What are you doing, not greeting Her Grace?”

“….”

Ruspell just stood there blankly. Oswald’s expression, which looked like he was dying of frustration, shifted into a forced smile.

“As I mentioned before, Professor Ruspell is very taciturn and shy…”

“….”

“Ahem! I shall apologize on his behalf.”

The spirits’ conversation flowed directly into my head.

They really didn’t need to relay every bit of their gossip through telepathy…

[Oh my, what happened to Lord Ruspell? He looks like a shut-in who finally crawled out after being stuck in his room for three years.]

[That’s an improvement. Last time I saw him, I thought he was a corpse.]

[He’s so damn gloomy. I don’t even want to go near him. Gnome. What do you think?]

[….]

The spirits had a tendency to be too harsh toward humans who weren’t their contractors.

‘He looks fine to me.’

Compared to three days ago, Ruspell looked a little better.

For one thing, some color had returned to his face.

His lips were still chapped, but they weren’t bleeding like before.

His skin had become somewhat smoother, and the shadows under his eyes had faded slightly.

I still couldn’t clearly see his eyes through all that hair, though.

‘He should just trim his hair neatly.’

Still, seeing him outside the laboratory, which had felt more like a coffin than a workplace, made me genuinely happy.

It meant he had found the will to come this far.

‘Is he not interested in me anymore?’

It seemed the curiosity that had arisen because I called him ‘Pell’ seemed to have vanished.

Ruspell’s current attitude toward me wasn’t special in the slightest.

f I had to describe it, he looked at me the way one might look at an annoying, inconvenient person

‘Well…’

The fact that he’d been quiet all this time was proof enough that he’d lost interest in me.

If Ruspell had been interested in me, he would have already come to confront me, observe me, harass me, and set numerous traps.

‘Phew, thank goodness.’

Hiding my relief, I sat on the sofa.

“Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

As we sat down, the butler served iced tea.

Oswald emptied his glass in great gulps.

It seemed the butler hadn’t served him tea while he was waiting.

“Whew, I was very thirsty; I feel alive again.”

“What is it you came for?”

“The reason we have come is to tell you the truth about the unfortunate incident that occurred at the Academy and to formally apologize.”

“The truth? Are you saying someone forced Professor Ruspell to hang himself?”

Ruspell had simply suffered from guilt and eventually gave up on himself.

What “truth” could possibly be hidden here?

“N-no, that is not it. However, as a result of the Academy’s internal investigation, it was confirmed that Professor Ruspell was in the middle of an experiment.”

“Ah, an experiment on magic casting success rates and activation delay times while his life was hanging by a thread?”

Surely he’s not asking me to believe that?

Despite the sarcasm, Oswald’s expression was firm.

“It may be hard to believe, but it was an experiment. Therefore, Professor Ruspell will not be dismissed from the Academy.”

“Even if I withdraw my donation?”

“I fully understand that you must be disappointed in the Academy due to this incident. Nevertheless, our decision will not change.”

“Did you come all this way just to tell me that?”

“It is a fact that Your Grace was shocked. Things that need to be apologized for must be apologized for and settled. That is why we came.”

This meant that not only Oswald personally, but the entire Academy intended to protect Ruspell.

Even if it meant making an enemy of me, the Duchess.

‘Oh, I like that.’

I couldn’t dislike the fact that my friend’s workplace valued my friend that much.

‘My friend is appreciated there. Since I intended to donate anyway, I should let it slide at this point, right?’

“Let’s… not mention that day’s events anymore.”

“Thank you. It may sound like an excuse, but Professor Ruspell says he didn’t think anyone would enter during the experiment.”

“I’ve heard that mages are like that when they concentrate on something.”

“As expected, you know! That’s right, that’s the problem with mages. They often completely forget where they are when they concentrate, goodness.”

“There must be many troublesome situations.”

“Indeed! Professor Ruspell also said he realized many things through this incident. He regretted it a lot, thinking he couldn’t go on living like this. Right, Professor Ruspell?”

Ruspell did not answer.

He just sat limply on the sofa, blinking his eyes.

Flustered, Oswald glanced at my reaction.

“Pr-Professor Ruspell, didn’t you say the day before yesterday that you definitely wanted to come along when I said I intended to meet Her Grace? You intended to apologize to Her Grace. Right?”

“….”

“Right?”

“…Ugh!”

Oswald’s elbow of fury slammed hard into Ruspell’s forearm.

‘Grandpa, use your words! That’s the arm he transferred the pain to that day!’

Unaware of my inner thoughts, Oswald bared his teeth and whispered to Ruspell.

“My disciple, why did your master’s teeth end up like this again?”

Ruspell shifted his eyes. With a slightly awkward look.

Weren’t Oswald’s front teeth broken because an experiment went wrong?

I drank my tea, pretending I hadn’t heard anything.

“Professor Ruspell, since Her Grace has spared her time like this, if you have words prepared, speak them candidly… Straighten your back and sit properly!”

Ruspell frowned and rubbed his arm, then suddenly reached out his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

‘Who apologizes to a Duchess with a handshake? We’re not friends.’

Just as I was about to laugh, thinking he was still ignorant of noble etiquette, Undine’s voice reached my mind.

[Rianne, Ruspell’s using his mana.]

[If you hold hands with Professor Ruspell now, he will realize you possess mana.]

[Anyway, I have to hand it to human mages, they’re so damn sneaky. They could just ask, but they always try to find out secretly.]

Checking whether someone possessed mana was a habit peculiar to mages.

That’s why I let it slide quietly when Oswald checked Fiache’s magic power behind my back last time.

I didn’t bother avoiding the handshake.

Because Oswald, veins bulging on his forehead, hurriedly grabbed Ruspell’s hand and yanked it back.

“Are you crazy? Why are you asking Her Grace for a handshake!”

“Does the Duchess not have hands?”

“Shut up!”

Oswald, who had been shouting at Ruspell, made a very pitiful face toward me.

As if asking me to go easy on him because this kid wasn’t normal.

[Level 2: (Arrogantly) In consideration of the Dean’s sincerity, I shall proceed with the donation as planned.]

“I shall proceed with the donation as planned.”

“Wh-What?! Truly? I never expected that… How generous of you!”

Oswald clutched his chest and teared up as if his life had been saved.

‘As if. He totally expected this.’

“However, Your Grace… would it be possible to put that in writing?”

“….”

“It is absolutely not because I don’t trust Your Grace, but because I need a guarantee that payment can be made in order to recruit the construction guild in advance.”

“Butler, bring the contract.”

The butler, who had been glaring at Oswald with hawk-like eyes since he mentioned documents, quietly stepped outside.

A short while later he returned with a contract form, spread a leather writing mat across the table, and began to write

Scratch, scratch.

Only the sound of the butler’s quill filled the study.

Oswald was watching the butler with wide, vigilant eyes, while Ruspell, seemingly bored, stood up and wandered around the room.

I sipped my tea, glancing at Ruspell.

He studied the bookshelves with genuine interest, as though he’d spotted a book that had caught his eye.

‘He still loves books. What is he looking at? Is there actually something in here he’d be interested in?’

I wondered how I could tell him to pick any book he wanted to read while still sounding haughty and cold.

Before I could figure it out, Ruspell wandered over to the desk. He seemed to be looking at the blueprint I’d absentmindedly sketched before giving up on it.

Just as I was about to tell him not to look because it was embarrassing, he pointed at something.

“Control Water.”

“……?”

“I don’t know what a ‘Sprinkler’ is… but it’s a spell similar to this. The formula would need some tweaking, though.”

“……!”

Ruspell pointed to the sketches scattered across the desk.

Since I hadn’t known what kind of spell could replicate a sprinkler, I’d written nothing more than a brief note with a lone “?” beside it.

And after one glance, he gave me the answer.

‘Right, he was a genius!’

He had just changed into someone who spoke slowly and acted as if even breathing was a chore.

But Ruspell was still a genius.

His mind worked fast.

‘If I play this right, couldn’t this be helpful to me while also breathing some life back into Ruspell?’

Fortunately, the system instructions remained silent. I assumed that meant I could do as I pleased.

I leisurely toyed with the condensation on my glass.

“Did I see a professors’ lounge at the Academy…?”

Oswald answered without taking his watchful eyes off the butler.

“You likely confused it with another facility. The professors have private research labs, so there isnt a separate faculty lounge.”

“Isn’t a laboratory meant for work? It would be better to keep workspaces and places for rest separate.”

“…..You think so?”

“Especially in the case of mages, once they start an experiment, they neglect themselves. There needs to be a mandatory break time to force them out of the lab.”

“Hmm, you are correct.”

Oswald stroked his chin with a troubled expression.

“However, the Academy’s budget is meant for the students, so using them for the professors…”

“Butler, add the construction costs for a faculty lounge to the donation list.”

“Yes, Master.”

Oswald blinked, looking completely dumbfounded.

“S-so, you are saying you will provide not only a riding arena but also a faculty lounge for the Academy?”

Since when did you care about the professors? Sensing that look in his eyes, I brought out the excuse I had already prepared.

“A professor’s fatigue level is linked to the quality of the lessons. I cannot entrust someone sponsored by Ivrante to anything less than the highest level of education.”

“Oh, such deep thought!”

Oswald beamed with a wide smile. Regardless of the reason, there was no way he would refuse a lounge.

“Of course! Only the best education suits Fiache! After all, she is a child sponsored by the Duchess Ivrante herself! And our Academy is precisely the place that can provide the best education! Hahaha!”

He flattered me so much he looked ready to give me his own liver.

“You seem to have quite an interest in magic, Your Grace. You also seemed remarkably knowledgeable about magical research.”

That was because one of my closest friend had been a Master-level Mage.

Hanging around him naturally sparked an interest I didn’t previously have.

Mainly because I was curious if his personality had become foul because of magic, or if it was foul to begin with and magic just made it worse.

“To some extent.”

“I believe it was a wonderful decision to visit Your Grace today. The professors’ workload was expected to increase soon… if Your Grace provides a lounge, it will be a great help to them. I am truly grateful.”

“Is something happening at the Academy?”

“We have been appointed as consultants for the renovation of the Grand Plaza. Consequently, the overall workload is bound to increase.”

“It seems I’ve provided help at the perfect time.”

“Exactly! There could be no better time to build a professors’ lounge! With this, the Academy has advanced another step. It is all thanks to Your Grace!”

After praising me until his throat was dry, Oswald finally uttered the words I had been waiting for.

“Your Grace, if there is ever anything the Academy can do to help you in the future, please just say the word. We will assist you with all our heart and soul.”

“Then, could you lend me Professor Ruspell for one day?”

“……Pardon?”

The frantic Oswald suddenly regained his composure.

Even Ruspell, who had been absorbed in the bookshelves, turned to look at me.

“Why Professor Ruspell… w-what do you intend to use him for…”

“I’m conceptualizing a plan for the Grand Plaza construction. I need a mage’s knowledge.”

“Ah! I see. However, that is not a matter I can decide on my own… Hmm, Professor Ruspell, would you be willing to help His Grace?”

“No.”

“Butler, stop writing.”

“Yes, Master.”

The butler immediately put down the quill.

“A-ah, no, it’s almost finished… Your Grace, may I have a brief word with Professor Ruspell?”

“Go ahead.”

Oswald dragged Ruspell to a corner and began to persuade him in a very low voice.

I couldn’t hear a thing, but it didn’t matter.

[My disciple, do you think only you will benefit if a lounge is built? It’ll be good for all of us, won’t it?]

[No.]

[Just think of it as doing a bit of consulting. Sure, Her Grace’s personality is… well, a little difficult, but it’s only for one day. You can do at least that much for your master, can’t you?]

[No.]

[Sigh, I didn’t want to bring this up. My front teeth..the temple said they can’t be restored.]

[…….]

The spirits’ live broadcast came to an end.

Looking at their contrasting expressions, I could roughly guess the conclusion.

Oswald came back with an excited look on his face, practically dragging Ruspell over before stopping him in front of me.

“Our Professor Ruspell says he will, of course, help you.”

“I thought he refused?”

“What are you saying! Of course he must comply! Requests from Her Grace are always welcome!”

“I see.”

“Then when should I send Professor Ruspell over?”

“The sooner the better.”

“Understood. I will take responsibility and send him by tomorrow evening. Um… then, about the contract…”

Oswald pointed to the contract, which only needed the final touches, with a pitiful gaze.

I signaled to the butler with a glance.

“Butler, finish the contract.”

“Yes, Master.”

Oswald carefully read the completed contract and smiled brightly. His footsteps were noticeably light as he left.

It was a stark contrast to Ruspell, who trudged along, dragging his feet.

“Well then… shall we get started?”

I quickly began drafting the first outline.

At the time, I thought the problem with the proposal had finally been solved.

Until the next day, when Ruspell failed to appear even as night fell.