One year had passed since the name “museum” became more familiar than “treasury,” and the era had advanced to the point of using tempered glass in storefronts, ignoring the need for heating or cooling. By the time artificial mana stones extracted from magical beasts were being used as luxury goods for the wealthy, spring had arrived.
In front of the Magic Tower’s main gate, at a tea house bustling with examinees and their families, a citizen muttered, “Even the high and mighty must have a tiring life.”
“What nonsense? Did you eat rat poison for breakfast or something?”
“No, just think about Sir Isaac.”
In the past, when Isaac declared he would seal off the elf ruins for the capital’s sewage construction, there had been considerable opposition.
“But look what happened once they started going to museums themselves.”
“These days, ruins rarely get destroyed.”
Public opinion had shifted after they realized that once ruined, preservation was practically impossible. The man scanned the crowd and said, “Some of those bastards laughing now probably cursed Isaac back then. Doesn’t that give you chills?”
“If you live like that, you’ll die of a heart attack early. People are just like that.”
But the man didn’t seem to hear his friend’s advice. He kept pointing his finger.