How to Live as a Genius Scholar in another World - Chapter 25

Chapter 25 – Future Dreams (4)

—–CROW—– 

I needed to go to the Mages Guild.

That was the conclusion I reached after returning to the inn and pondering for a long time.

I had originally planned to spend the entire day working on my thesis. I wanted to at least draft an outline for a paper on the correlation between hieroglyphs and ogham script found in the ruins.

The Audhumla Guild had said they would call in people to decipher the inscriptions in the ruins.  Professors from some university, or people under their direction, would surely come and go soon.

The people from the university would check the inscriptions and take the interpretations and research results back to their labs.

Their labs were likely operating in teams—the lab owner and the slaves. So, if I was goofing off at the inn because no one had come yet, I would end up publishing a late thesis in the academic world.

The only way for me, an individual, to publish a thesis faster than a team was to utilize the time lost during their round trip.

‘But my dick is more important than that.’

I could always write a thesis later.

There was also a backup plan: to briefly return to academia, check their theses, and design my thesis from a different perspective.

Also, a university department team would probably have several ongoing projects.  Research related to the ruins would likely be pushed back to the next quarter.

No, it was almost certain.

I knew from experience.  The work was never-ending. I had endured three years of hearing, “It’ll be done soon, just one more day.”

The people coming this time would most likely be graduate students—officially called research students.  What if they secretly messed up the inscriptions in the ruins because they didn’t want to work?

‘You shouldn’t confuse priorities when working.’

That was the biggest lesson I learned while living as a research student at Carmine University.  Working without rules or order often led to frequent overtime and irrecoverable results.

My life’s priorities were life > purpose > everything else.

Publishing a thesis fell under purpose—the process of finding a way back to Earth—and my dick fell under life.  It definitely did.

If I had to choose between being an otherworldly scholar and an Earthly eunuch, I would choose the former without hesitation.

Crumple—.

I crumpled up the paper I was writing on because of a typo and tossed it into the trash can.

Organizing your goals in writing helped your mindset. So, I was thinking of organizing my priorities, which would become my guidelines for the time being.

Swipe.

Scribble, scribble.

These were the things I needed to do:

1. 1. Resolve the status effect on my penis.

1. 1. Find out the principle and origin of Beast Regression.

———–Huge Gap———–

3. 3. Write a thesis on the newly discovered ruins.

3. 3. Raise my adventurer rank to Bronze class.

‘Something like that.’

I wanted to add “0. Find and kill Yernara” above 1, but I refrained.

—Professor Kurapika of England said,

The most frightening thing isn’t death, but the possibility that this anger will fade away.

I agreed with him.  Frequent releases of anger and hatred diminished the explosive power at crucial moments.

Just like you needed to abstain from sex to increase your ejaculate volume, and quit smoking and drinking to save money, I shouldn’t waste my hatred by constantly cursing that bitch.

Emotions were a depletable resource.

When I faced Yernara, I couldn’t afford to have only lukewarm anger left within me.

At that moment, I needed to unleash all my libido like releasing a hunting dog that had been cooped up in the house for a month into the garden, and scream like a madman.

“Because that’s catharsis.”

Nod.

Having set my goals, I put on the clothes I had placed on the bed.  A black robe and a mask I had prepared.

Flap—!

Swipe.

I had bought these clothes at a clothing store on my way back.  To be respected by those obsessed with academic status, like the Mages Guild, I needed to appear to have a certain level of status.

For example—like a master’s degree holder in archaeology from Carmine University.

“Hehehe.”

The Carmine University diploma and archaeology master’s degree certificate, which I had never used, shimmered in my hand. Both were small ID cards that looked like fancy brooches.

‘There’s no risk of my identity being revealed.’

These badges were rare, enchanted items in this world.

Their purpose and effect were similar to credit cards or IDs in modern civilization. In most public institutions or large organizations, these badges alone could verify your identity.

It was perfect for hiding the fact that Nord, an Iron-class adventurer from the Audhumla Guild, was a master’s degree-holding archaeologist. I could also remotely disable them if I lost them, so it was safe.

The Mages Guild wouldn’t ask me to remove my mask. Archaeologists handled artifacts, and there were always plenty of people who coveted valuable artifacts.

It was common for archaeologists to hide their identities. The brooches didn’t reveal any personal information.

So, I was certain that the Mages Guild wouldn’t ask me to remove my mask. In fact, the identification function on the brooches was for the protection of archaeologists.

Swipe.

My reflection in the mirror looked a bit like a bat because of the black robe.

But the mask I wore was bear-shaped.  It was a sign of respect for my idol and great hero, Vectorman Bear.

It would have been nice if the mask also had a voice-changing effect, but it didn’t matter.

“Vector-voice deepening.”

I consciously lowered my voice to a sexy, husky tone.

With this, my disguise was perfect.  No one would think I was the adventurer Nord!

“Khehehe.  Now it’s perfect. Khehehe… huh?”

Chuckling to myself, I suddenly realized a huge problem.

“Khehehehe. Shit.  I bought the clothes with my face exposed.”

How could I have made such a foolish mistake?  No matter how flustered I was, this was a stupid blunder.

Now, the Mages Guild could easily find out my real face just by investigating the robe. They just had to ask the clothing store if anyone had bought a robe like this.

I was the only black-haired, black-eyed adventurer in Sargardis!

“Damn it.”

I had been so preoccupied with my enlarged penis dangling around that I hadn’t realized such an obvious thing.

How could I focus on anything with my dick constantly bumping against my thighs? I hadn’t noticed it when I went to the blacksmith.

—Whoosh!

—Thud.

I took off the robe and mask and threw them on the bed.  I had to give up on going to the Mages Guild in those clothes.

Should I buy a new costume? But the clothes from the store would be easy to trace, so I was hesitant to wear them. It wasn’t just about whether I showed my face at the store or not.

But I couldn’t make a homemade suit.

That was something only someone with good dexterity could do.  This time, I had to modify the mask too, so ordinary skills wouldn’t cut it.

I had never made or mended clothes in my life.  High school home economics class was the last time I did anything like that.

It was foolish to expect to make decent clothes with those skills.  To make my first-ever handmade clothes look decent, I would have needed to be born with god-like dexterity.

“—Ah.”

Yes. For example.

Like the dwarves, the blacksmithing race.

***

The human body deteriorated if you didn’t use it.

This wasn’t limited to muscles.  Even the brain, divided into left and right hemispheres, would deteriorate if you didn’t use it regularly.  Like people who struggled with simple arithmetic as they got older.

That’s why I forgot the name of the inn where Francesca was staying.

It was all because I had less to think about since becoming an adventurer.  It wasn’t because I was stupid.

Anyway, even though I had just heard the name yesterday, I could only remember that it was something like “Children of… something.”  It wasn’t Seo Taiji and Boys; what kind of inn name was that?

I had no choice but to ask Dorka.

“What inn? Are you moving?  How could you do this to me?”

“Here.  Three days’ lodging fee. Found it on the street.”

“It’s probably ‘Mutalat’s Children.’”

Thanks to Dorka’s dual personality transformation in the face of capitalism, I arrived at the inn where Francesca was staying.

I had put the black robe and mask I bought earlier in the bag on my back. To avoid leaving any witness accounts of a guy carrying a suspicious bag, I also packed some miscellaneous equipment to look like I was going on a request.

—Clang, clang.

“Welcome~. Are you here for lodging?”

The innkeeper was a plump lady. I casually replied to her greeting.

“No. I’m here to see someone I know.  Do you know a Francesca who’s staying at this inn?”

“Fran?  Who are you?”

The lady looked at me suspiciously.  She was prejudiced to the core.

Was Fran Francesca’s nickname?  The name, which sounded like it would roll if you pushed it, suited her.

To be called by her nickname, Francesca seemed to be close to the innkeeper.  Not as close as me and Dorka, though.

“I’m an adventurer who worked with her. I have some business with her.”

“Business? What kind of business would bring you to her lodging?”

“She said we should have a drink sometime, so I came by.  I also have something I want to ask her personally.”

My real purpose was to customize the robe and mask, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say that.  But why was the lady’s expression souring?  Was she pissed that a chink was going to drink at her inn?

“She said she wanted to have a drink?  Fran?”

“Yes.  Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

Was Francesca underage?  Although she was short, she looked like a woman in her 20s.

“It’s not that.  She passes out after a drink or two.”

“Huh?”

Seriously? What happened to her dwarf genes that a half-dwarf would get drunk after a few drinks?

Maybe Francesca wasn’t a half-human, but a half-elf.

Francesca, the new half-dwarf, half-elf human.

It was a genetic combination that defied the otherworldly eugenics I knew. I had learned that different races, even within the same humanoid species, couldn’t have children.

I started to worry about Francesca.  If this fact came to light, biologists aspiring to be the next Darwin of this world would capture and dissect her.

“Hmm. Really?  Fran?”

As I was pondering from a biological perspective whether dwarves had a lot of alcohol dehydrogenase in their livers, or if they expelled alcohol directly without absorbing it, the innkeeper looked me up and down.

“Hey, you.”

“Yes.”

“Fran is only 22 years old.  She’s an adult, but she’s still too young to live alone in a foreign land.”

“Yes? Yes.”

I didn’t know why the lady was telling me this, but I pretended to understand.  I was used to the rambling of older people.

“She’s always lonely and struggling with no one to rely on, but she’s working so hard.  Do you understand?”

She seemed to be lecturing me.  But that applied to me as well.

“I didn’t know the details… but I know Francesca is a good person.”

“Yes, it’s good that you know.”

The innkeeper, arms crossed, nodded in satisfaction at my answer and pointed inside the inn.

“Come in.  Fran said she wouldn’t be back until evening, so wait inside if you have nowhere else to go.”

“Did she go to work?”

“Today is the day she pays her rent.”

The woes of renters were the same everywhere.  My heart ached for her difficult life, working to make ends meet right after finishing that tough request.

Even though dwarves were sturdy, being an adventurer was tough.  It was especially true for Iron-class adventurers, who lived day to day. As a comrade who had faced death with her, I hoped she wouldn’t overwork herself.

I looked at the clock tower outside the inn. It was 5 PM.  She said she would be back in the evening, so it shouldn’t take too long.

“I’ll wait.”

“Good. Or do you want a drink while you wait?”

“It’s a bit awkward to get drunk alone when I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Oh my.  How polite. It’s rare to see a polite young man these days.”

“I’m also witty.  I’m an all-around entertainer.”

I gave her a casual reply and sat down in a corner. I didn’t want to disturb her business.  If only the monetary system allowed for small payments, I would have ordered something to drink.

Merchants and residents usually used cheap goods like flour, priced by the gram, as currency.  It was like bartering.

I couldn’t do that because I didn’t have the means to buy and store flour in bulk.

As a result, my money was disappearing at an alarming rate. I wasn’t saving any of my request rewards; I was living off my savings.  It was because I wasn’t diligently working and was splurging on eating out and lodging every day.

‘By the time I reach Bronze, or Silver class at the latest, I need to find a place to live.’

It was reckless to get a house right now.

Iron to Bronze class adventurers were easy targets.

If I, an Iron-class adventurer, bought a house and showed off my wealth, I would be in big trouble. Some people might not stop at robbing an empty house; they might target me and steal my wallet.

A wealthy but unskilled Iron-class adventurer.

It was a phrase that would tempt the poor of this other world to mug me and steal my wallet.

Whether they were caught and arrested later didn’t matter; for those living desperate lives, it was all the same.

As I was killing time looking out the window, it was past 6 PM.

That’s when the person I was waiting for appeared.

—Tap, tap, tap.

Francesca appeared at the open inn door.  I was lost in thought, but I immediately noticed her. It would be harder not to recognize her small stature, perhaps around 160cm, and her gray robe.

“Francesca.”

“Oh? Nord?”

Francesca looked surprised when I called out to her and took off her hood.  I left my bag by the table and walked towards her.

“Oh? Uh, wait! Don’t come closer!”

“Huh?”

Francesca stretched out her hand, refusing to let me approach.  I stopped awkwardly mid-stride.

I couldn’t understand why she was so disgusted.  Did “let’s have a drink sometime” mean “it was disgusting working with you, let’s never meet again” to her?

“I, I went to the sewers for a request today!”

“…Huh?”

Francesca exclaimed and quickly stepped back.  The wind blowing from behind the door brushed past her gray robe and hit my nose.  It was the smell of sewers, a smell I had become all too familiar with.

Today, she was the color of sewers.

Memories of the sewers flooded my mind.

Happy memories of the otherworldly great big katydids with their huge compound eyes and horizontally splitting mouths.

“Gah.”

PTSD, activated.

—–CROW—–