Chapter 9

Since Leo, Kirio, and I became friends, nearly three years had passed in the blink of an eye.

Let me give you a broad overview of what happened after the three of us hit it off.

The general flow of the military academy was to cover the basics in the first year, move into specialized fields in the second, and write a graduation thesis in the third year to graduate. In reality, students with a strong sense of purpose seemed to begin studying their preferred specialties from the very first year.

I, of course, already had a purpose. There was a profession I wanted to enter.

A detective.

To become a good detective, there were areas of knowledge that were absolutely essential: knowledge of magic, which could be called the foundation of this world, and knowledge regarding the current state of criminal investigation. I decided to spend my first year focusing on accumulating that information.

Life at school was fun.

It seemed classes were divided by grades, so having entered as a scholarship student, I was naturally placed in the top class. Kirio, Leo, and that guy Bob were in the same class as well.

Even after enrollment, Bob continued to pick on Kirio and me. He always made sure to time it perfectly for when Leo—a noble of much higher standing than himself—wasn’t around.

The students from other classes also had various opinions, to a greater or lesser degree, about a commoner who entered with top marks and a cross-dressing girl from a dying house. Consequently, no one ever stepped in to stop Bob’s harassment.

However, Bob’s petty bullying meant nothing to me.

The problem was Kirio.

Every time she was harassed, she would glare back with bloodshot eyes full of killing intent. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought Bob’s bullying didn’t affect her at all. But knowing her background, I understood that she was simply desperately holding back tears.

So, every time it happened, I would step in to protect her—or rather, I would just send Bob flying.

“You! Do you have any idea who I am!?” Bob would always howl after being knocked down.

“Shut up. No matter how much power your family holds among the nobility, it means nothing to a commoner like me.”

Standing in front of Kirio to shield her, my lines were always the same.

“Nice one! Go for it!”

And Leo, appearing out of nowhere and laughing as he cheered us on, was always the same too.

Then, a red-faced Bob would charge at Kirio and me with his lackeys, we would fight back, and eventually, Leo would jump into the fray with a laugh. Using his monstrous strength, he would knock everyone out—friend and foe alike. That became part of the routine, too.

As did the three of us being thrown into the disciplinary cells together.

Infuriatingly, the rest of the class would invariably take Bob’s side during those incidents, so it was always our group that got punished. Perhaps because Leo was such a singular existence, the others in our class found him overbearing. Maybe they wanted to chip away at a spirit that seemed utterly unshakable.

Strangely enough, I could understand that feeling a little bit.

Regardless, the days spent causing trouble and getting scolded by the school staff weren’t bad, in a weird way. We had few allies, but that only seemed to deepen the bond between the three of us. What started as an unnatural friendship forced together by Leo’s aggressive meddling eventually turned into a relationship where we could talk about anything.

Kirio’s worries. Her complex feelings toward her parents. The curse of trying to remain a “strong heir” even when she wanted to quit.

Leo’s gripes. His sighs over how most of the surrounding nobles were idiots. His pride in being a figure destined to leave his mark on history.

And my dream. Detectives. Or rather, mysteries. When I presented little mysteries to them as riddles, the two of them found them far more interesting than I had expected.

There was even a time like this:

“But in the end, it’s just a matter of whether it’s plausible or not, isn’t it?”

During a break, after the two of them failed to solve a “whodunit” I’d made up, Leo complained as I explained the answer. Though he didn’t seem serious; he was wearing a mischievous smirk.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The problems you make are interesting. It’s a way of thinking I’ve never heard elsewhere. You build up logic, exclude the impossible, and identify the culprit. But that’s not exactly certain, is it?”

“It is certain. There was evidence, too.”

“That’s exactly my point. For example, there’s a possibility that the evidence was forged. Or can you say for sure that it didn’t just happen that way by some miraculous coincidence? Plus, you used logic to narrow down the identity based on the culprit’s actions, but even that isn’t absolute. There’s a chance the culprit lost their mind and took actions that were completely disadvantageous to themselves for some reason. I think the odds are slim, sure. But in short, it’s not a matter of absolute certainty, right? It’s just a matter of whether it’s plausible.”

“Isn’t that being a bit unreasonable?” Kirio said with a pleasant laugh. She had taken a great liking to my mystery riddles, and now she begged me for a new one every time we had a break.

“No, it’s not that unreasonable. True, if you’re talking about ultimate terms, he’s right. Just as there is nothing certain in this world, there is no path to an absolute truth. But once you go that far, aren’t you just in the realm of philosophy?” I replied.

“That’s true. In reality, when you’re looking for a culprit, you have no choice but to investigate based on what’s most plausible. But this is a riddle, isn’t it? If so, shouldn’t an answer like that be allowed? If you’re going to say it’s not, then it’s your fault for not establishing the rules beforehand.”

“You really hate losing, don’t you, Leo?”

Kirio laughed as she spoke, but I was secretly impressed.

I was amazed because Leo’s opinion fundamentally struck at the very heart of mystery fiction.

That genre isn’t enjoyable unless the reader and the author share a common understanding of what is “fair game”—in other words, where the line of plausibility is drawn.

Actually, it wasn’t just a problem for mystery novels. Whether it’s DNA or fingerprints, even the things considered evidence in my previous world can never be “absolutely certain.” The possibility that another person with the same DNA exists isn’t zero, and the possibility of evidence being forged never truly disappears. In that sense, mysteries and reality share the same weakness. That is to say, neither has an absolute truth.

“I’m impressed.”

I offered Leo unreserved praise for piercing through such a complex issue so sharply, despite him having zero knowledge of the mystery genre.

“Of course I did,” Leo replied with a broad grin, not looking the least bit bashful.

Our school life continued in this vein, and we spent our days quite happily.

As for our academic progress?

That was going smoothly—surpassingly so.

Merlin, the headmaster, had taken quite a liking to me, to the point where he even gave me private lessons.

When I sought out magical knowledge, the first thing I was taught in the magical theory classes at the military academy was just how inconvenient magic actually was as a technology. Magic is useless. That was what they hammered into us.

“Magic alone can accomplish nothing.”

That was Merlin’s favorite phrase whenever he came to our class to lecture.

Magic is broadly divided into two categories: magic that affects the human body, and magic that manipulates the five natural elements.

Magic affecting the human body includes things like healing and physical enhancement. Magic that manipulates the five natural elements covers the attributes of fire, water, earth, wind, and ice.

“However, this is simply a matter of what the magic is being used to manipulate. The root of it is one and the same.”

Merlin taught us that in our very first lesson.

I thought it was an easy enough concept to grasp, but even in my class—which was a collection of top-tier students—everyone except Leo and me seemed puzzled, tilting their heads in confusion.

In short, magic is a technique that uses magical power to manipulate “something” that is already present.

To me, someone who had reincarnated from a world where magic didn’t exist and had wondered what magic truly was—and to me, someone with basic scientific knowledge—it made perfect sense.

Magic does not create something out of nothing.

Take the five attributes: fire magic works by raising temperature, and ice by lowering it. Water magic is performed by either gathering moisture from the atmosphere or manipulating existing water. Earth and wind are the same; they use magical power to control the air or the ground that is already there.

Healing and enhancement magic are also performed by using magical power to manipulate the physical body.

Magic is simply that kind of technology.

“During the era of war before Pangea stabilized into the current Four Nations system, magic was developed primarily as a combat technique. However, it was difficult even for Elves—who excel at magic—to kill an enemy with magic alone.”

It was a matter of power and speed, Merlin explained.

“First, power. Whether you try to burn or freeze an enemy, magic fundamentally lacks instantaneous power. In the time it takes to work, the enemy can escape or counterattack. It’s far quicker to just punch them. Even with fire magic, only myself and Van over there are capable of wielding flames at a level that could incinerate an enemy instantly.”

Every eye in the classroom turned toward me, filled with a mixture of envy and irritation.

“Next, speed. Fundamentally, magic takes time to activate. You have to chant an incantation, and even if you use no-chant magic, it still takes time to construct the mental image. It’s a mere moment, but in combat, that moment is fatal.”

“Can it not be used for dealing damage from a distance?” Bob stood up and asked.

That was actually a pretty good question. Not bad, for someone like Bob. I was impressed.

“As I said before, the issue with power means the scale is small. To begin with, the effective range isn’t that great, and as the distance increases, accuracy plummets. Of course, this varies by individual and training level. But if that’s the case, it’s much more effective to just shoot them with an arrow.”

I had thought magic was more versatile, but I guess that wasn’t the case. I was surprised as I listened to the lecture.

“It’s the same at close range. While you’re trying to burn an enemy, they’ll either run away or hit you back. Physical enhancement is the same. Rather than using enhancement magic mid-combat and then swinging a sword, it’s safer and more efficient to just swing the sword normally.”

In summary, Merlin concluded:

“In combat, magic is an extremely difficult technology to handle. It only becomes effective at mid-range, and only when used alongside some other strategy. Despite this, why is magic so highly valued in the world?”

Clack. Merlin tapped his staff against the floor.

“Because it is useful in ways other than direct combat and is indispensable to daily life. Doctors specialize in healing magic. Fire, which is essential to civilization, is controlled by magic. No method of lowering the temperature other than fanning oneself has yet been found without using magic.”

This elicited a few laughs from the students.

“Unless your body is exceptionally robust, enhancement magic and earth-manipulating magic are very effective for farm work as one grows old. In non-combat situations where there is no emergency, magic is actually quite vital. It’s likely different from the image you all have. And even in those situations, magic is still not all-powerful. For example, because magic relies on mental imagery, it is inevitably imprecise. It is better at destroying than creating. You can create a block of ice, but you cannot create an ice sculpture. You can smash a wall, but you cannot create a perfectly flat wall surface.”

Magic is not the all-powerful truth that the public believes it to be—something that can do anything if mastered. It is simply a system of techniques.

That was Merlin’s summary.

“Though, knowing that, I went and mastered it as a hobby anyway.”

Finally, Merlin laughed in his withered voice.