The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 34: LEVEL 3 (1)
"Hey! Hey!"
"Ugh! Ugh!"
Oscar woke up from a nightmare, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
A strange chill lingered around him, and his entire body was drenched in cold sweat.
"Hey, are you okay?"
A familiar voice came from beside him.
He turned his head and saw Veronica’s slightly tense face and the familiar sight of a hospital room.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Oscar replied.
"Thanks. You woke me up at the right time."
The distortion of his dreams was something he dreaded most about this curse.
If not for Veronica, he might have been forced to witness an even more horrific scene.
"A nightmare?"
"Yeah, a filthy one."
"What kind of bad dream was it... Was it about the recent fall?"
"No, it was something from the past."
Because of the dream, everything from that day felt vivid again.
The scent of the dawn air on the cliff’s edge, the emotions from that day, and the loyal gazes of his subordinates.
"......"
Veronica looked like she wanted to ask more but closed her mouth when she saw his body tremble slightly.
'If it's about the past... then it must be that.'
The great fire at the Crucian estate.
A mysterious incident, still unresolved, that the public still speculated over.
‘Is it some sort of trauma?
To be honest, I never expected him to have this side, considering he always looks so arrogant and self-assured.
But thinking about it, it's understandable. After all, his entire family was wiped out in one night.'
Veronica muttered to herself as she looked away.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked so thoughtlessly."
"It's fine, it wasn’t your fault."
Having gathered himself, Oscar shook his head as if telling her not to worry.
If anyone was to blame, it would be that Nightmare Baron.
Until he disposed of that rat, this curse would haunt him forever.
At that moment, Veronica handed him the newspaper.
"The article’s out. The reporters worked faster than I thought."
"......"
Oscar glanced through the article.
[The mages of White Tower succeeded in hunting down the White-jam (White Silk Moth). This monster, upon reaching adulthood, is said to have the power equivalent to a Level 5 mage or knight... (summary omitted)... The White Tower announced that Veronica Fricks and Oscar Crucian were responsible for the hunt, and if this is true, they are the heroes who saved Sirin last night.]
"A hero, huh."
"How does it feel? We might even receive some personal sponsorship thanks to this."
"Hmm..."
He understood her sentiment well enough.
He remembered how thrilled he was at her age in his past life.
Back then, the mere attention and admiration of the world made his heart race, keeping him up at night.
He even had this strange longing and excitement for the word ‘hero.’
'But now, what can I say? I feel surprisingly nothing.'
In fact, perhaps due to that awful dream, he even felt a slight sense of rebellion.
After all, the reward for saving the world as humanity's hero was the downfall of his beloved White Tower.
"Surprising. You’re not interested in being a hero?"
"Not really. I just want to take care of my own people."
At least, in this life, he wanted to live that way.
A selfish, insular life that only cared for himself and the people of the White Tower.
…Not that he knew if it would work out.
"Looks like you have less ambition or dreams than I thought."
"Then you can have plenty of those for both of us."
Just as he replied weakly, the door to the hospital room suddenly burst open with a bang.
Was it Maxim!?
"Oscar! Are you alright?"
A man with light blue hair rushed in, panting—Fran Sirius.
"What, is your seclusion training over?"
"Yeah. I heard about what happened as soon as I got out and rushed here."
He looked a bit scruffy, but his gaze had noticeably deepened.
Now, he could probably be called a respectable Level 4 mage.
As Fran walked towards the bed, he asked.
"What exactly happened? And…"
He blinked as he glanced to the side.
"Why is Becky here again?"
"Hey, didn't I tell you not to act too familiar with me?"
"Why? We’re friends."
"We’re not friends! Not even close!"
Veronica snapped, frowning.
"Do you have any idea how annoying it was for me at the academy with people thinking we were friends because of what you said?"
"How would I know? You never told me."
"You little...!"
She was about to raise her voice, but, remembering they were in front of a patient, she suppressed her anger.
"Ugh, forget it."
"Leaving?"
As Veronica rose and headed for the door, she turned back, glaring sharply.
"What, did you think I’d stay here to chat with you two?"
"A little?"
"No way. Just so you know, I’m not close to you either."
With a look of sharp rivalry, she asked out of nowhere.
"Let me ask you one thing. Are you AAA?"
"AAA? What’s that?"
He genuinely had no idea what she meant.
Veronica stared intently, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then furrowed her brows.
"…Never mind."
She left, and Oscar watched her go in silence before asking Fran.
"Hey, Fran. Do you have any idea what that meant?"
"I have no clue either."
To be honest, he felt a slight relief at that answer.
For a second, he thought he hadn’t understood because he wasn’t up to date with the “kids these days”...
"Anyway, let’s talk. What’s this about becoming an instructor, and what’s the story behind the supplement? And what’s this about hunting a Silk Moth?"
"To put it simply..."
Oscar summarized the recent events as briefly as possible, from the lecture he’d held to the circumstances that led to the current hunt for the Heavenly Silkworm.
After hearing the story, Fran nodded.
"Ah, that explains why all the kids I ran into on the way here seemed to have improved."
"But they still have a long way to go."
Thinking about the upcoming ‘Night of the Magic’ made Oscar realize he'd have to push them even harder.
"You're unusually enthusiastic. Are you trying to win some kind of Oscar Award at this year’s White Night Festival?"
".......?"
An award?
Oscar suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment.
He hoped he had misheard and asked again.
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
"What did you just say?"
"I said you're unusually enthusiastic."
"And what did you say after that?"
"Oh, I asked if you were aiming for some kind of Oscar Award?"
"......."
Whether it was a blessing or a curse, his left ear was working just fine.
"What kind of award is that?"
"The Oscar Award is a prize created in honor of the 17th Master of the White Tower, Oscar Sage, who passed away after the Great Hunt under the Emperor’s rule. It’s awarded at the White Night Festival to the mage with the most outstanding achievements over the past year. Every mage of this era dreams of winning it."
"......Oh, come on, seriously."
Oscar rubbed his forehead, feeling his face heat up.
"Why would they make something that embarrassing?"
"………What’s so embarrassing about it?"
Fran, looking slightly exasperated, continued.
"Anyway, realistically speaking, it’s unlikely anyone from our White Tower will win the Oscar Award. In fact, no one from here has won it in the past 20 years."
"………………Not even once in 20 years? Not even once?"
"Not once."
Fran counted on his fingers.
"Let’s see. The Red Tower has won it 7 times, the Yellow and Blue Towers 6 times each, and even the Black Tower won it once."
"......"
While the other Towers had been winning evenly, even the Black Tower had claimed the award once, yet the White Tower hadn’t won a single time?
It was remarkable that the White Tower hadn’t been expelled from the Four Great Towers.
The situation certainly seemed ripe for suspicions of favoritism.
"Still, the award is called the Oscar Award, and yet no one from the White Tower has ever won it…?"
These pathetic juniors were raising his blood pressure.
Oscar’s eyelid twitched.
‘The Oscar Award. I don’t like the name, but wouldn't it be perfect to announce the White Tower’s revival after 20 years?’
After some thought, Oscar asked,
"If someone wins that Oscar Award, do they get anything besides honor? Is it just about the title?"
"Of course not. The winner gets a private audience with the Emperor."
"Oh."
Oscar’s eyes gleamed.
It might be phrased as an “audience,” but it was really more of an opportunity to ask for whatever they wanted.
Knowing the Emperor's personality, most requests would likely be granted as long as he didn't ask for something outrageously ambitious.
In other words, winning the award meant claiming both honor and substantial rewards.
‘If I got the chance to speak with the Emperor alone…’
He considered it for a moment but couldn’t decide.
Should he reveal his true identity, or continue dealing with things as Oscar Crucian?
At this point, there wasn’t a single person he could trust 100%.
‘Honestly, if I’m lucky, I’d be dismissed as a lunatic, and if not, I’d end up hauled to the imperial research lab and dissected. Even if I reveal secrets only the real Oscar Sage would know, I doubt they’d believe me.’
During the war, demons had often employed similar tricks to infiltrate the imperial family.
‘The Oscar Award, for the mage who’s shown the best achievements over the year…’
Realistically, curing the Cadena Flu alone wouldn’t be enough to win.
The good news was that the White Night Festival was still a few months away.
If he accumulated a few more notable accomplishments in that time, he might increase his chances of winning the award.
‘Well, even if I miss out on it this year…
From next year on, it’s mine for sure.’
Fran, who seemed ready to stay up all night, finally headed back to his room at midnight.
"That guy is such a nuisance."
Finally alone, Oscar lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
He didn’t intend to sleep.
Afraid that his precious memories might be tainted, he had long made it a habit to avoid sleep as much as possible.
He began to replay his battle with the Heavenly Silkworm mentally.
‘I didn’t expect the backlash from Trinity to be that severe… It was my mistake not to check beforehand.’
As he assessed what needed to be corrected, he came up with a solution.
‘The fundamental fix would be to build a stronger body capable of withstanding Trinity’s recoil.
If only I had such strong shoulders, I wouldn’t need to worry about it at all.
But unfortunately, that kind of strength isn’t something you can gain through short-term training.’
‘Which means I’ll have to resort to unconventional methods…’
For mages, “unconventional methods” inevitably meant magic.
Oscar began to ‘create’ the most essential spell for his current situation.
‘Using an air cushion as the base spell would be best. Then increase the shock absorption rate…’
He projected the blueprint of the spell formula in front of him and worked through the night, carefully adjusting each part.
After a few hours, he finally crafted and immediately tested a new spell.
"Hmm."
Watching the results, he made a few adjustments to the formulas and then smiled in satisfaction.
‘This should do the trick.’
According to his calculations, the final impact on his shoulders would be reduced to about 32%.
At that level, his shoulders wouldn’t be shattering with each pull of the trigger anymore.
‘At least I’ll be able to fire it two or three times without an issue.
Combining both shoulders, that’s a total of six shots.
If I can’t handle an opponent in that many shots, it’ll be my own fault for failing to dodge beforehand.’
‘Now, what else should I work on?’
As Oscar lay on his side, rolling around while refining other spells, a man appeared at the mana power plant, a place still bearing the intense traces of the recent battle.
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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