Chapter 143
When the Academy's first semester ends, taking a breather isn't a privilege reserved for students alone.
The professors who spent the semester preparing students' lectures can also enjoy a short break.
Yulian, the professor of anti-dark-magic defense, was no different.
When vacation started, he would return to his family home, spend time with his relatives, and prepare for the next semester……
…at least, that was Yulian's schedule as known to the public.
Unfortunately, Professor Shun Isa, the medical professor, had to perform surgeries at the Academy even during vacation, so I had no break.
Still, just losing the black-magic lectures for first- and second-years freed up a lot of time.
Thanks to that, I could devote my free time to developing a hobby I had put off for a while.
'It's been a while since I did some cooking research.'
Students hunt monsters in the Demonic Frontier for the advancement exams at the end of each grade, and the Academy buys those monsters from them.
Special parts go into equipment,
the meat goes to the butcher,
and the mana stones go into magical tools.
In that way, monsters contribute frugally to the economy of the Academy territory.
Ever since I was in the capital, I'd handled monster meat in many different ways, but the monster meat from the Academy territory came in such vast varieties.
Thanks to that, it was a pleasure to research how to handle monster meat I'd never seen before.
'What unusual meat should I try today?'
Basically, when people talk about edible monster meat, they usually mean meat from pig-, cow-, or bird-type monsters.
The slaughterhouse run by Wangcho handled more than just livestock; monster meat came in from time to time, so there were plenty of opportunities.
But during this vacation, I wanted to try a different kind of meat.
'It's not like I'm cooking for my family anyway.'
Wouldn't it be good to try something a little experimental?
With that thought, I visited the Adventurers' Guild in the Academy territory again today.
“Welcome, Professor. What cut would you like today?”
The guildmaster greeted me warmly as soon as I stepped into the guild.
It was because I bought up the guts of troublesome monsters, so he welcomed me like this.
“This is the list of monsters the adventurer kids brought in this time.”
I checked the list handed to me by the potbellied guildmaster.
'Monkey-type monster... this is a bit much for even me to handle.'
In my previous life, I'd heard somewhere that people cooked with monkey heads.
The problem is, monkeys somehow feel too human, so I don't like it.
No matter how much I enjoy unusual dishes, my nerves aren't that strong.
'Rabbit-type monster?'
I'd already worked on rabbit before.
The meat was delicious, but the organs were too small, so I couldn't really try anything unusual.
'The shark looks... fine.'
After browsing through the list of monsters that had come into the disassembly shop this time one by one, I was able to pick out a few kinds.
After much deliberation, I bought the meat of shark-type and ostrich-type monsters.
What thrilled me most was the shark-type monster.
“Fish, huh. I never imagined such a rare monster would come in.”
“Haha. I heard you were interested in fish dishes last time, Professor, so we kept it fresh-frozen.”
“Thank you, Guildmaster. Freezing must not have been cheap. I'll cover the cost.”
The potbellied guildmaster waved his hands back and forth.
“No need. Thanks to you buying up the monsters that would otherwise be thrown away, my wallet has gotten a lot better off too. I had a mage I know handle the freezing, so it didn't cost much either.”
The guildmaster had personally bought these monsters from adventurers.
That's because not all monsters create value.
Some monsters make money, and some don't.
The problem is that adventurers aren't a profession that volunteers for free.
So someone has to buy those corpses.
The state and the local lords do buy them for now, but that's still not enough to encourage adventurers to hunt.
So the guildmaster was buying them personally like this.
So the younger adventurers wouldn't go hungry.
“If it really bothers you, I'd be grateful if you'd invite me to another meal next time, Professor. It was my first time learning that monsters could be cooked like that.”
“Since it's vacation, I should be able to invite you to meals often.”
“I'm already looking forward to it.”
That was one of the reasons I liked this guildmaster personally.
He was a good person, but I liked him even more because he enjoyed my cooking without any resistance.
Even when I invited students to dinner, once they ate with me once, they never accepted a second invitation.
At most, only Jenny, together with Charlotte, would occasionally come over for a meal.
'Students probably didn't have that much pocket money.'
So I thought they'd gladly accept if I offered to treat them to free, delicious food.
Was my cooking bad?
Or was it just a matter of taste, with people liking it or not?
If not that, was it because eating with a professor felt burdensome for a student?
'Though they did go pale for some reason the whole time they were eating.'
I had even asked Pericia about the reason for it.
And the answer I got back was…….
— “How about changing the interior, at least?”
— “Is the dining room atmosphere strange?”
— “A bit eerie, I guess. Besides, isn't this house Sir Yulian bought back then a house on the market for a reason?”
— “What was I supposed to do when this was the only house available at the time?”
The answer that came back was that it might be because of the rumors attached to the house.
Anyway, for that reason, I liked people like the guildmaster.
Not only did he readily accept invitations to dinner, he also ate strange ingredients deliciously.
According to the guildmaster,
if you're going to survive in the Demonic Frontier as an adventurer, you have to eat bugs too.
Compared to that, my cooking was only questionable in terms of ingredients; taste-wise, he said it was on the level of a high-end restaurant.
“Since the topic came up, I'm thinking of trying a fish dish today. Guildmaster, would you like to try some...”
That was when I was chatting with the guildmaster at the guild counter.
The guild doors opened, and soldiers wearing hats entered the guild.
The major who seemed to be leading them walked straight up to me, saluted, and said,
“We've been looking for you, Professor Yulian Nihirit.”
Recalling how I'd once explained that the military rank the prince had given me was roughly captain, but that I was essentially a civilian,
I answered the major with a light salute.
“Good day, Major.”
“Sorry to interrupt during vacation, but could you spare some time right now?”
“Is there something you'd prefer not to discuss here?”
The major stepped aside slightly instead of answering.
Then I could see Eri, Freya, and Jenny standing among the soldiers.
Was their party name Sisters, maybe?
Just the fact that they had come along with the soldiers was enough for me to guess why they were looking for me.
It was probably about black magic.
Having guessed that much, I saluted the guildmaster first.
“I'm sorry. It seems dinner will have to wait until next time.”
“Not at all, Professor.”
And so, all of a sudden, I ended up having an impromptu dinner with dark mages.
***
“…So, if I'm hearing Miss Jenny correctly, you want me to naturally draw clues out of them, the way Charlotte does?”
“Yes. That's right, Professor.”
“Hmm...”
Right after hearing Jenny's explanation, who had come over and said all this out of nowhere.
The first option that came to mind was refusal.
'I'm not as good at deduction as Charlotte.'
I'm really just matching the case at hand to knowledge or examples I already know.
The octagon case was like that, and so was the arsenic case.
I wasn't tracing the clues backward; I was fitting the clues into cases I already knew as a doctor.
I keep stressing this, but I'm only a little unusually good at observation when diagnosing patients; I can't uncover someone's past the way Charlotte can, at a nearly magical level.
'But since it's the mistaken impression I intended, I can't very well deny it.'
The problem is that Jenny and the others don't see it that way.
They'd milked the fact that I had first gone head-to-head with Charlotte so hard that their expectations of me were huge.
By now, it was too big of an issue to simply deny.
In the end, without refusing, I decided first to make sure what exactly they wanted from me.
“Miss Jenny. Then what do you want me to do?”
“Unlike Charlotte, Professor, you're good at using clues to put pressure on people. So I want you to do a pressure interrogation.”
Hearing that, I felt relieved.
Because what they wanted was not for me to figure things out like Charlotte by reading clues, but to make them confess.
That was well within my abilities.
How many years had I spent acting while relying on the power of being mistaken for someone else?
Bluffing like I knew everything was as normal to me as breathing.
'Besides, even dark mages should have one or two occupational ailments left.'
If I were pressuring them based on those symptoms,
it didn't seem that difficult.
“All right. Let's try it.”
After all, they're the kind of people who won't open their mouths even under torture.
I didn't think my reputation would take much of a hit even if they didn't open their mouths for me either.
That settled, I was in the middle of preparing for the interrogation.
Jenny carefully made one suggestion to me.
“Professor. What if you tried cooking for them?”
“Cooking?”
“Yes.”
Jenny said it as if it were only natural.
“My friends say that when they eat with you, Professor, before they know it they've answered things they weren't even asked. That happened to me too. Is it because of the atmosphere?”
Hearing that, the corners of my mouth lifted a little.
Was it because my cooking was that delicious, so their guard let down?
If that's what she meant, then it was quite a gratifying compliment.
“Very well.”
I didn't exactly like the idea of cooking for dark mages,
but I'd already operated on a Chimera artificer who was on death's door, so with the feeling of giving a snack to someone I disliked, I decided to serve them a meal.
Maybe.
After all, if they'd only been eating the prison's disgusting, tasteless slop, maybe my delicious cooking would make their guard loosen.
But there was one thing I needed to make clear here.
'I don't want to give them any expensive special cuts.'
If I were a doctor, maybe.
But cooks don't have anything like the Geneva Convention.
Meaning I have no duty to serve terrorists the very best meal.
Of course, there are chefs who take pride in their cooking, but since this is a hobby for me, I'm free from that sort of thing.
So I decided to make the meal for the dark mages out of ingredients that people strongly loved or hated.
'The ingredients that just came in are pretty unusual too.'
First, if I treated the shark-type monster like tuna, I didn't want to give them expensive cuts like the fatty belly.
So I chose the parts people don't usually eat, the head.
Luckily, I thought of an eyeball dish.
Tuna eyeball dishes are difficult and divisive, but even so, the flavor is exquisite.
Since sharks and tuna are similar, it seemed worth trying once.
Same with the ostrich-type monster.
Normally, you'd use the breast, leg meat, or wings.
But I didn't want to offer tasty cuts to those guys.
So I decided to use the pancreas and liver.
'Well, that's how I decided on the ingredients, but...'
Still, I do have at least some pride in the cooking itself.
So I cooked with these ingredients as best as I could.
***
The basement of the Academy's Security Bureau, where not a single ray of sunlight reached. (The surface doesn't get much sunlight either, though.)
There stood a prison etched with spells and environmental enchantments that deny every magical symbol.
The faint old-style sacred patterns carved into each bar used the principle that sacred power interferes with mana to seal mages' magic.
Even the criminals' friend, darkness, was hard to find under the mana lamps in this place.
As if they wouldn't even allow the prisoners to plot anything in the dark, the prison was filled with light so bright that not even a single shadow could be found.
As if not even privacy were allowed, each room was only a single cell, and even the toilet had to be a chamber pot.
On both sides of that corridor, eyes rolled behind the iron bars.
Grave robbers, deserters, murderers.
Criminals who had never even seen a mage in their lives were pressing their faces against the bars.
There was nothing more thrilling down here than seeing something even worse locked up behind the iron bars that held them.
Their gazes gathered on the innermost part of the corridor, on the dark mages confined in rooms engraved with even more specialized patterns.
At the center of those gazes, the blood mage Rodeni ignored them and leaned back against the wall.
“Hmph.”
Her left arm was gone.
It was the result of Erica's axe work.
Because of Erica's unique magic, which uses blood clots like poison, the blood mage's arm had gone necrotic and had to be amputated.
If she had been treated in time, the arm could have been saved.
But because she didn't want help from the priests, she stubbornly hid her symptoms to the end and lost the arm.
Though Rodeni herself didn't seem to regret the choice.
“Aren't you used to those stares from the brothel?”
“Shut up, one-eye.”
Beyond her room.
Rodeni snapped at the hooded curse-user Othma, who had one eye covered.
That eyepatch was also Erica's handiwork.
When they were subdued, the face that had been kicked to disrupt the curse-user's chant took a hit in a very unfortunate place.
Othma had no choice but to remove the ruptured eyeball.
He had wanted the saint to restore that eye,
but all he got back from the saint was the answer that removing it before it became infected was the treatment, and that it had been replaced with a prosthetic eye.
The blunt refusal that restoring the eyeball itself was beyond even life-saving treatment, with no more favors to be expected, was a bonus.
Ever since that day, Othma spent his time treating the chimera artificer while complaining every day about why his own eye wouldn't be given back.
Then, whenever there was another prisoner he didn't like, he spent the time bickering with them.
“Haaah... Huff...”
“Wolf bro. You awake?”
“......Uhghh.”
The chimera artificer Baltazan had only recently opened his eyes.
Because of the liver surgery, he was staring into space and babbling nonsense.
The Black Saint Shun Isa diagnosed it as traumatic hepatic encephalopathy or delirium, saying there was nothing to do but let nature take its course.
Lastly, Belzian.
“Belzian niiim.”
“......”
“Mister Belzian?”
“Be quiet.”
“Hmph. Still trying to act cool.”
Lastly, Belzian.
He had scarcely opened his mouth since surrendering to Erica.
Although he had been captured, he didn't see any reason to divulge information.
And so, at the deepest part of the corridor,
the four dark mages were each confined in separate rooms.
They spent the day killing time until the guards' roll call, and were occasionally dragged off to the torture room; that was their everyday routine.
What made that routine suddenly reach a turning point was abrupt.
Clank.
A lock turning sounded from the end of the corridor.
“You two. Drag them out.”
The door of the neighboring cell opened, and guards carrying spears engraved with spells burst inside.
The first one to step out was the curse-user Othma.
Even as he staggered while being shoved, his eyes glared at the guards.
His palms itched to summon that dark-blue energy, but the shackles sucked it up like straws.
He clenched and unclenched his fingers futilely.
After him, the chimera artificer Baltazan was dragged out.
Baltazan was led away helplessly by the guards.
Still, the guards handling him were somewhat careful.
Because the chimera artificer was in a condition where it wouldn't have been strange if he died at any moment.
After those two, the remaining pair, Belzian and Rodeni, were dragged out of the prison.
“You're next after those two. Move to the waiting room.”
“Well, boys. Torture like that isn't going to make us open our mouths.”
“......”
Beside the sneering Rodeni,
Belzian was dragged along with a bored expression as well.
What kind of torture would they bring this time?
It was painful, sure, but not enough to make them cave and spill everything they knew.
That was why they could keep up this attitude.
And so Belzian and Rodeni were moved to a new room called the waiting room.
The waiting room was structured to connect directly to the interrogation room, with iron bars in between.
And beyond the bars, in the middle of the interrogation room, three people were seated.
Chimera artificer Baltazan.
Curse-user Othma.
And......
“Professor Yulian. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Good day, Mr. Othma.”
He was Professor Yulian, the natural enemy and sworn foe of dark mages.
In front of those three people was a dining table, with the two dark mages seated on either side of Yulian, who sat at the head.
Yulian gave the guards a signal.
Then the guards, though reluctant, removed the prisoners' handcuffs.
Othma watched to see whether mana would gather in his hands as soon as the handcuffs came off.
But with the shackles still on, his magic remained sealed.
Yulian spoke to the two dark mages whose hands were now free.
“Originally, I planned to conduct one-on-one interviews, but since Mr. Baltazan's condition isn't good, I decided to interview the two of you together.”
“Do you think I'll open my mouth, Professor?”
“Well.”
In response to Othma, Yulian answered as if it were no big deal.
“I only came here to have a meal with you all. Before the food is served, shall we have a brief conversation?”
“......”
The curse-user shut his mouth at once.
He was putting his whole body into showing that he wouldn't give away even a single clue.
But Yulian continued the conversation as if he had no interest.
“You've changed your right eye to a prosthetic, I see.”
Yulian was the first to point at the curse-user's eye.
“Is the prosthetic uncomfortable?”
“......”
“Easy to overlook, but a prosthetic eye is a very important medical device. It shouldn't be too big, too small, or too heavy. Since it stays in contact with the skin for long periods, the material matters too.”
“......”
Othma said nothing at all.
Regardless, Yulian continued talking.
“After removing the eyeball, the empty space must be filled with a good prosthetic eye. The orbit(*the hollow in the skull where the eyeball belongs) isn't designed to withstand gravity. If you leave the space where the eyeball used to be empty, one side of the face will slowly collapse under gravity. Did the person who made the prosthesis explain that to you properly?”
“......”
At Yulian's almost-concerned tone, the curse-user's mouth itched to respond.
But if it was Yulian, he might be able to draw information out of even a simple word.
So he tried his best not to react at all.
But as if to show that judgment was wrong, Yulian blatantly figured something out from him.
“So what I'm trying to say is, don't keep putting the prosthetic in and taking it out too often.”
The curse-user flinched.
“The conjunctiva is badly bloodshot, and there's far too much eye gunk. Those are signs the prosthetic's been put in and taken out too often. More importantly, the focus is oddly off. You may think you inserted it facing straight ahead, but let's see. Human eyes are set a little farther inward than you think, so what looks straight ahead to others is actually a bit inward. If someone else had inserted it, they wouldn't have made that mistake.”
Yulian said, flicking a finger.
“What are you hiding in your eye?”
“!!!!”
As soon as the words were out, the guards slammed the curse-user's head onto the table.
The guards immediately ripped out the prosthetic eye and smashed it.
Then inside were clumps of hair.
It was Yulian who explained what those clumps of hair meant.
“Judging by the different colors, those are the guards' hair. You were planning to collect hair, cast a group curse on them, immobilize them, and escape, weren't you?”
With that brief exchange alone, everyone watching the interrogation instinctively realized.
That the one in control of this space was already Yulian.