Retire 350

350 Interference (3)

One must live with a positive outlook.

What’s the point of worrying over what’s already happened?

I always say this: instead of dwelling on the past, you should deal with what’s right in front of you, one thing at a time.

This is no different. What’s done is done. Unless something truly bizarre happens and someone travels back in time, there’s no way to change what has already occurred.

So, what should one do?

First, let’s try to think positively. Kim Chaemin’s tone might have been rather grim, but in reality, nothing about the situation had actually changed.

Kim Chaemin knew that, too.

“There’s no need to be so gloomy!” Kim Chaemin declared in a bright, energetic voice.

“Nothing’s changed, after all!”

…Was that really something he ought to be saying at a time like this?

“Didn’t you say Noah Michel hated Alex Hope anyway? That she’d kill him if she could?”

“……”

“Wanting to use him as an experimental subject might actually be better. At least it means she wouldn’t kill him right away.”

Gamble and I both looked at Kim Chaemin. Logically speaking, he wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong, but… was that really something to say here and now?

Sensing our stares, Kim Chaemin hastily added, “Of course, even so, after holding a funeral and everything, I doubt anyone would believe Hope is still alive.”

“…Ah, yes.” Gamble replied, eyeing Kim Chaemin with suspicion. Well, it wasn’t wrong, not exactly.

Still, she would surely remain on guard. Even I would find it hard to believe if someone suddenly announced Alex Hope was dead. And if he disappeared without a body? That would be even harder.

At the very least, no one would let their guard down until the body was confirmed.

Even I, supposedly on the same side, felt that way—so what about the others?

Judging by what Lehmann had said, it was clear he didn’t believe Alex Hope was dead. The same went for Noah Michel. Though, unlike Lehmann, she didn’t say it outright; it was more like, “He’s probably dead, but you never know, so let’s be prepared in case he’s alive.”

Then again, that was all filtered through Henry Lehmann. Who knew what Michel really thought? Hope, Michel, Lehmann—honestly, none of the three seemed entirely sane.

“Even if Hope wakes up, it’s not like he can just walk around in the open!”

I’d just finished sorting out my thoughts, but Kim Chaemin was still clinging to Gamble, talking away. Was he trying to clarify his point, make excuses, or persuade Gamble? I really couldn’t tell.

“He’s known all over the world. If a dead man starts walking around, it won’t just be a problem for Noah Michel, you know?”

Anyway, the gist of Kim Chaemin’s argument seemed to be that even if Hope regained consciousness, he’d have to keep a low profile and be careful.

“So, let’s try to see the situation positively!”

“…So, since he has to stay quiet anyway, we should focus on Alex’s recovery?”

“Yeah.”

Kim Chaemin’s voice was flustered.

He forced a smile, obviously awkward, and nodded.

“Y-yeah! That’s what I meant!”

That was not what he meant.

Gamble’s eyes narrowed.

“Really?”

“No…”

“Really?”

“……”

“The positive side?”

Maybe because she’d been spending more time with Kim Chaemin lately, Gamble didn’t let it go so easily.

“I won’t get mad, so tell me.”

“……”

“I really won’t.”

After a few more gentle prods from Gamble, Kim Chaemin finally spoke in a small voice.

“…That we could, um, examine Hope first?”

“……”

Wasn’t he just about to say ‘dissect’?

No matter how much of an ordinary sensibility a mage might have, a mage is still a mage.

…Not that I could say much, since I’d been thinking something similar. I already knew what Gamble’s ultimate goal was: she was searching for a way to close the dungeon from the outside. If Hope could help with that…

But you can’t get consent from someone who isn’t in their right mind. No matter how urgent things are, if we just force our way through, how are we any different from the Ark?

And then there’s Gamble’s reaction to consider—she’s Hope’s only family now…

“Of course, right?”

…It seemed I needn’t have worried.

Gamble’s eyes sparkled.

“We have so much equipment now! We might be able to find things that ordinary hospital tests would miss!”

At the same time, Kim Chaemin’s face brightened.

“Right?”

“Right!”

“And I wasn’t even around back then!”

“The Archmage? Of course not!”

I’d never heard that magical engineers were out of their minds, but…

Well, anyone going through a PhD program can’t be entirely sane. I remembered a few of my high school friends who’d gone to grad school. Not a single one of them was normal.

It was a little disheartening to realize I was the only one left to rein in the mage and the engineer as they began to bond and make remarks that were legally and ethically questionable.

But as a teacher, I couldn’t turn a blind eye to illegal activities happening in this sacred place of learning.

“Hey, why not?”

“He’s an unregistered person!”

“That’s… Dr. Gamble, you shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“What does it matter! Shanshan would do anything I asked anyway!”

“Even so, I can’t just ignore you acting without thinking things through.”

“But…”

Gamble glared at me. Was this really something to get so angry about? Why?

Kim Chaemin openly ignored me and patted Gamble on the shoulder.

“Just say you get it. What can anyone do if we do it in secret?”

“Mr. Kim!”

“Oh, you heard that?”

Kim Chaemin feigned innocence.

Then, clapping his hands, he winked at both Gamble and me.

“See? Let’s not worry about weirdos and just do what we can right now.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean illegal experiments…”

“Come on, it’s just a figure of speech! Sandra never said she’d actually do it.”

“……”

“Sandra?”

“…Yes. I won’t.”

“…Right! Anyway, my point is, let’s not be too negative—let’s try to see things in a good light.”

“For example?”

Kim Chaemin grinned even wider, as if he’d been waiting for that question.

“Do you like growing plants?”

---

The Administration Office always drew all kinds of people.

Most of the hunters who entered dungeons were young. Many had just graduated from the academy and joined the Administration to gain experience and build their résumés—it couldn’t be helped.

If you lasted two years, four at most, you were considered a veteran at the Administration.

Academy-trained mages tended to stick around longer. Back then, the influence of the Mage Society wasn’t as great as it is now, but even so, it wasn’t enough to overcome the deep-rooted discrimination within the mage community. The academy and the Administration served as a kind of shield for mages who couldn’t find a “normal” place in magical society. They were fundamentally different from the hunters who joined the Administration just for experience.

One of the Administration’s veteran mages was on Team 1, Han Taekyung’s team. Unlike the team leader, Han Taekyung, he had a mild-mannered appearance. Born the second son of an elite mage family, he’d been sent to the academy because his attribute differed from the rest of his family—a classic academy-trained mage.

“Deputy Leader, do you like growing plants?”

And he had a hobby of growing plants.

“I do. But he never talks to me.”

“…Has Team Leader Han done something again?”

“Haha. Not exactly. But you’re the one who always ends up suffering.”

“If you know that, why not try to stop him?”

“Why should I?”

He was a typical mage—somewhat absent-minded, floating through life.

I’d worked with him a few times, filling in for Han Taekyung on dungeon runs. Of all of Team 1, he was the easiest to talk to, so I’d treated him kindly.

And the reward for that kindness…

“This is a present.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s easy to care for. Just water it once a week.”

…was a potted plant.

He didn’t use magic to grow the plants, but he would sometimes hand out pots to those around him. There was a little pot he’d given my sister for her desk, and another in my father’s office. I’d received a few myself, and I’d even seen him foist them on visiting guests at the Administration.

Later, after I’d gotten to know him better, he told me that when you grow plants, they keep multiplying, so you end up with more pots.

Once his house was overflowing with plants and his wife started begging him to do something about it, he’d distribute the extras to people around him.

I’d never been particularly interested in growing plants, so I couldn’t say how true that was. But one of the office staff who shared the same hobby agreed enthusiastically, so it must not have been a lie.

Anyway, I accepted the gift, and I didn’t want to let a living plant die from neglect. Trusting that it was easy to care for, I watered it once a week. Some pots died even with that care, but some survived for a long time. Eventually, I got the hang of it, and there was even one I kept on my desk for over a year.

Right before I went on vacation, I even asked a junior to water it for me while I was away.

Since coming to the past, I hadn’t thought about the plant on my desk even once, but today, for some reason, it came to mind. The Administration building had collapsed anyway, so the plant must have been smashed as well.

But that wasn’t why I was thinking about the plant.

The mage who loved growing all kinds of plants and handing out pots would help people care for them if asked, but he never interfered with a pot once it had left his hands.

“If it dies, that’s its fate.”

He’d say, with the air of a resigned fatalist.

He might have forced the pot on you, but if you said you couldn’t take care of it, he wouldn’t push further. In that sense, he was polite.

Unlike a certain other mage, who also liked growing plants but was now forcing people to tend a vegetable patch instead of just handing out pots!

“Just think of it as making up for all the sensory play you missed as a child, and work hard!”

“…Am I allowed to be angry at that? I feel like I should be.”

“No! Use that time to dig more dirt!”

“Why do we have to do this by hand?”

“Because the fruits of hard labor are always the sweetest!”

Kim Chaemin said firmly.

“The kids are doing great—should a teacher be grumbling?”

“No, but…”

“It’s all necessary, so just do it!”

Kim Chaemin said, hands on hips, looking like someone you simply couldn’t reason with.

A potted plant would have been better. It would have been so much better if he’d just handed me a pot and told me to grow it.

I glanced over at Gamble, who was already sprawled out in a corner of the field.

It was my own fault for answering that I didn’t dislike growing plants.

I sighed, looking at the vegetable patch that had sprung up behind the school building.

I was growing less and less certain what this school was supposed to be.