Chapter 6

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 6: The Most Necessary Thing (2)

It was lunchtime.

Oscar, who had hastily made do with a can of soup from the pantry, stepped out of his room.

[10th floor.]

As the door of the magical elevator opened, he was greeted by a dazzling wave of colors.

This was the garden on the 10th floor, a place he often visited to walk around and think deeply.

With an entire floor dedicated to it, calling it a "garden" didn’t do it justice—it was more of a grand park.

“Ah, this feels good.”

The fresh air seeped deeply into his lungs, brightening his mood.

Oscar stretched lightly, loosening up his stiff body.

‘This guy's basic stamina isn’t all that great, probably because he’s been holed up in his room, focusing solely on research.’

Just yesterday, he was completely exhausted from a single outing.

Frankly, it was a bit disappointing.

The ideal wizard he envisioned had physical strength on par with a knight.

Moreover, his unique “Oscar-style combat method” required stamina as a fundamental component.

‘For now, let’s just do a light lap around.’

As he began jogging, the scenery around him zipped by.

With fresh oxygen fueling his brain, his mind felt clearer.

‘At least this is a good first step.’

The normalization of Oscar Crucian’s physical circuits—something he’d longed for—had been successfully completed.

Though eight circuits were still bound, attempting to unlock them now would be too risky.

‘It’d be safer to wait until I reach Level 5. By then, I’ll have a body that can withstand most shocks.’

He could afford to forego activating the main pathways for now since they were primarily used for advanced magic.

‘…And my new magic breathing technique is working well.’

He was constantly absorbing mana without rest.

The best part of this breathing technique was that it could continue 24/7, even while he was sleeping.

If only his subordinates hadn’t given it the embarrassing name “Oscar-style Breathing,” everything would have been perfect.

‘If nothing out of the ordinary happens, I’ll reach Level 3 within two months and Level 4 within half a year.’

At that level, he wouldn’t be dismissed as a “half-wit mage.”

But given the upcoming White Night Festival, even that felt too slow.

With thoughts like these swirling in his mind, Oscar slowed down his pace.

“Here…”

He had arrived at the clearing where he used to teach his students—a place still vivid in his memories.

Remembering the dream he had about them, he gazed at the clearing with a somewhat wistful look.

‘I promised Lloyd I’d give him more private lessons.’

To be honest, he barely remembered making that promise.

With the escalating war after that day, he had spent more time on battlefields than in the Magic Tower, surrounded by corpses rather than his students.

“……”

Why had he, as their teacher, failed to keep more promises than he’d honored?

He felt a pang of guilt for Lloyd, but also a faint sense of bitterness.

‘Really, Lloyd as the Red Tower Master's disciple? Isn’t that too much?’

That old man wasn’t as skilled in magic as he was, had a strange personality, and, frankly, Oscar had him beat in looks, too.

‘…Above all, that old man and Lloyd are just not compatible.’

Lloyd, mature and sensitive, had a completely opposite mindset.

The Red Tower Master would likely tease him out of habit, putting him through all sorts of mental hardships.

But if Lloyd had chosen him as his teacher, there must have been a compelling reason.

‘I’m curious.’

He was dying to know what had happened and why Lloyd had made that choice.

But meeting Lloyd wasn’t feasible right now.

As a Level 2 mage, there was no way he could encounter someone of the Red Tower Master’s status.

“Eventually, I’ll end up back at the White Tower.”

Rebuilding the fallen White Tower would naturally improve his own reputation.

As that happened, he would have the opportunity to reconnect with Lloyd.

‘…So, where should I start for maximum effect?’

In his mind, he held a vast amount of knowledge worthy of being called the history of the White Tower, much of which had been lost when the demonic tribe invaded 20 years ago.

‘Thankfully, I can release this information bit by bit without raising too much suspicion.’

That was thanks to the legacy of Oscar Crucian himself.

Recognized as a theoretical genius, he had pursued research obsessively in every field.

In other words, he could freely release research results without arousing doubt.

Just as he was carefully building up his White Tower reconstruction plans in his mind, something caught his attention.

“Hm?”

A white-haired old man in a maintenance uniform approached him from the opposite direction and greeted him warmly.

“Is that you, Little Oscar?”

“…Do I know you?”

The old man sighed, looking saddened by the question, and bowed his head.

“I’m Walter, from the Magic Tower’s Facility Maintenance Department. I heard a rumor that you lost your memory, and it seems to be true.”

“Yes, that’s right. Did we know each other well?”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’d say we were close, but you used to chat with me from time to time when we met.”

“That’s… unexpected. Fran told me my personality was so bad that people barely wanted to talk to me.”

Walter laughed heartily.

“Ha ha! Well, it’s true that you don’t socialize easily, but I don’t think it’s because you’re difficult. To me, you seemed to have a very warm heart.”

“So Fran was lying, then.”

“Haha… not exactly…”

Given Walter’s vague response, perhaps his personality did have some issues.

“By the way, what does ‘Little Oscar’ mean? I don’t think I’m that short.”

“Ah, I also worked here when the former Tower Master was around. He was the one I call Great Oscar.”

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Gun]

“……”

It was a touching realization.

Even after 20 years, someone still remembered him.

Oscar’s face softened into a gentle smile.

“That’s a nice way to put it. I think I’ll start using it. I’ll be dropping by occasionally, so keep me company for a chat when you can.”

“Haha, I’d be grateful for the offer… but I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”

A rejection here?

Did this guy really have a personality problem?

As Oscar visibly frowned in surprise, Walter hurriedly explained.

"Ah, of course, I don’t mean to say I dislike it. It’s just because I’m leaving the White Tower."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

"...I’ve been working in this tower for almost 40 years now. Over that time, I’ve served three Tower Masters, and my colleagues have come and gone countless times. Now, I’m the only one left in my department. Haha."

He lowered himself slowly, gently brushing his wrinkled hand over a flower in full bloom.

"The previous Tower Master, Oscar Sage, said something at his inauguration. He said that no one residing in this tower was unnecessary, and he asked us to take pride in being a part of the White Tower."

"Ahem."

Well, this is a bit embarrassing.

Back then, I was thrilled at being the youngest Tower Master in history.

That’s probably why I was able to say such cheesy things.

"It may sound silly, but since then, I’ve been working with the belief that I am a part of this tower."

"It’s not silly. Truly."

Oscar responded with the utmost sincerity.

The facilities maintenance department is responsible for maintaining and repairing various facilities within the tower.

It might not seem critical from the outside, but without them, the tower would soon start creaking and breaking down.

"Your serious expression is a bit embarrassing, but thank you. In any case, that’s why I’ve decided to quit."

"...What exactly do you mean by that?"

Feeling pride in being a part of the White Tower—and then quitting because of it?

Walter, slowly standing up, began to speak.

"As you, Little Oscar, are aware, the White Tower is facing difficult times right now. For those of us working on the ground, it’s something we feel deeply. Facilities I’ve come to see as old friends are stopping one by one, and the parts needed for repairs are barely being supplied."

"..."

"And it’s all because the tower’s finances are poor. But next month will mark exactly 40 years since I started working at the White Tower. Do you know what that means?"

Of course, he knew.

Oscar’s eyes grew dark.

"...It’s for your long-service reward, isn’t it?"

All non-mage employees of the White Tower receive an award and a token of appreciation at their 20-year and 40-year milestones.

The award for 40 years of dedication to the White Tower is 200,000 bels—enough to buy a house in a major city.

Walter, who had smiled faintly at Oscar’s answer, slowly nodded.

"That’s right. If I’m not mistaken, the White Tower currently can’t afford that reward. To gather that money, you and many others would have to risk your lives to complete new quests.

Thinking about that...I just couldn’t bring myself to accept the money. No matter what anyone says, this place is my second home."

"...."

The unexpected words left him speechless.

The White Tower in this era had indeed fallen.

He had seen it with his eyes and heard it with his ears.

‘But…’

He hadn’t realized things were so financially strained that an employee would forgo their rightful reward.

Thinking that far, a mix of shame and anger surged within him.

‘...And here I was, mocking the Blue Tower for doing everything they could to earn some money.’

Who was he to belittle and disparage their efforts to make a living?

At least they were enjoying an era of prosperity thanks to the money they earned.

‘Meanwhile, I...’

War hero, savior of humanity.

All he had were empty, useless titles—mere illusions that couldn’t even reward someone who had devoted decades to the White Tower.

"Young Master Oscar! Your hand! Your hand is bleeding!"

Shocked, Walter rushed over to clean the blood and wrapped a bandage around it.

"Why did you clench your fist so hard? Enough that your nails dug in. Isn’t it painful?"

"...."

Looking down at Walter’s snowy white hair, Oscar couldn’t say anything.

The stabbing pain in his palm was nothing compared to the guilt piercing his heart.

Clenching his lips, Oscar realized what the White Tower needed most right now.

‘Money.’

He had been so absorbed in the prosperity of his years as Tower Master that he’d forgotten.

Stability comes from a well-stocked treasury.

In a deep, resolute voice, Oscar asked,

"When do you plan to leave?"

"In two weeks."

Two weeks.

Oscar, staring at the handkerchief wrapped around his palm, said,

"…I’d like for you to continue being my confidant, even from now on."

"But I’m about to…"

"You don’t have to leave."

He would ensure this never happened again.

"I’ll make sure of it."

Restoring the tower.

His first goal for that was securing funds.

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Gun]