As the new semester began, several things changed around me. The biggest change was my lodging. A staff member from the Magic Tower’s Administrative Office told me.
“Congratulations, Sir Upperhills. Starting this semester, you will be using a private room on the 9th floor.”
“Ooh.”
The 9th floor was the highest floor in the Magic Tower dormitories.
“Reaching the 9th floor in just one year… That’s a new record for the shortest time.”
“I was lucky.”
“Oh, come on. You’re being too modest.”
He glanced at my expression, then cautiously added.
“If you find living in the room insufficient, you are also welcome to live outside the Magic Tower.”
Come to think of it, most people at the doctoral level were said to have residences outside the Magic Tower. They said it felt a bit awkward to invite guests to the dormitory…
‘In that case, can’t they just invite them to their office?’
The Magic Tower provided private offices, after all. No matter how I looked at it, it was a poor excuse. They were clearly warm and well-fed, and had grown to want distance from their studies.
If not for that, there was no way they would give up the Magic Tower dormitory, which was so close to work. I said to the administrative staff member.
“No. I like it here. They provide food and cleaning, so there’s no reason to go outside.”
The staff member’s eyes sparkled as if he were moved.
“To be so humble even after gaining such fame…!”
“…”
That’s not it. I just don’t want to give up the convenience of a short commute… But I didn’t bother to correct him.
It was better to leave things as they were. As I moved to the 9th floor, I also had to bid farewell to my roommate, Liam. Clap, clap, clap.
Liam clapped with a smile.
“I’m on the 5th floor, but you’re going even higher.”
“…You don’t seem sad at all.”
“…!”
“I’m disappointed. Living with you, Liam, was quite comfortable, no, it was fun.”
“No, no! It’s not that…!”
Liam began to stammer out an excuse.
“Lately, people have been so over the top because I’m your roommate… To be honest, I couldn’t help it.”
Liam went on and on, explaining all the efforts he had made to maintain secrecy until now.
‘So he’s not lying…’
How absurd.
I was talking about the people in the Magic Tower, not Liam. Since a sentiment had formed against pestering me directly, it seemed they had been bothering the people around me instead. I said to Liam.
“Should I make them all quiet down?”
“What…?”
If I let the musclemen loose, I could eradicate all the bothersome people. Liam shook his head vigorously.
“No. There’s no need to go that far.”
I see…
And so, that matter was settled. Afterward, a wonderful life of waking up in my 9th-floor room and commuting to my 10th-floor lab every morning… Did not unfold.
Because when my floor changed, my lab’s floor changed with it.
“The 31st floor…”
I muttered, ascending the floating staircase. Thirty-one was a number I’d only seen at Baskin-Robbins. For a school of only three people to be on the 31st floor.
The credit for establishing the metric system was significant. What was even more surprising was that the School of Ideal Gas Magic had followed us up to the 31st floor. …They didn’t follow us on purpose, did they? Just as two implies three, it seemed like it was time to start being properly suspicious.
On the other hand, the School of Wind Element Magic, a traditional powerhouse, was said to have plummeted from the highest floor, the 39th, down to the 34th due to a brain drain and poor performance. The highest floor was the 39th, and our school was on the 31st. We were not far from the top now.
I looked down at the people who had become specks far below and muttered.
“Unfortunately, we haven’t reached a height where people look like trash.”
“…Junior?”
Senior Giuseppe, who was beside me, looked at me with a bewildered face.
“By any chance… were you harboring some dangerous thoughts?”
“Ah. No. It’s just a line from a story I liked.”
“Hmm… I see.”
I barely managed to avert the crisis. When I talked about science, everyone listened with their brains turned off, but they only got startled when I said things like this. I could only lament this world’s barren popular culture.
Come to think of it, I heard that thanks to the supply of paper these days, novels and other reading materials were starting to come out. The Upperhills Newspaper had also started serializing novels. Should I try writing one myself?
I could revive the memories of my past life and introduce classic masterpieces to this world, couldn’t I? And it failed spectacularly. Laura, who had received my manuscript, said.
“You write speeches so well, but why is this…”
“…”
“No matter what, we can’t serialize something like this in the newspaper.”
“…Is it that bad?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the problem, specifically?”
There shouldn’t have been a problem with the plot…
Haa.
Laura sighed and said.
“The dialogue sounds a bit like it’s from a mentally troubled graduate student.”
“Who does?”
“…All of the characters in your novel, Chairman.”
“…”
With that feedback, my dream of becoming a great author came to an early end within a month.
“The Chairman is most beautiful when he’s in the Magic Tower.”
“Yes…”
I could die from regretting the time I wasted writing that novel. I spoke to Giuseppe.
“Don’t you think so, Senior? If I had read papers during that one month, I would have accomplished something more.”
“Don’t look back at what’s past. Look ahead.”
Hmm.
He won’t even tell me my writing was good as an empty compliment. A truly reliable senior. Let’s just do research.
Before me lay the meteorological data from all over the Empire, sent by the School of Ideal Gas Magic. It was data drenched in the blood, sweat, and tears of graduate students who had run around jungles and deserts to collect it. I was grateful for their passion… but there was a small problem.
‘There are errors…’
With this, it was impossible to distinguish whether it was a trace of the sky island passing by or just an overlap of observation mistakes. This was precisely why the School of Ideal Gas Magic had asked for my help.
“I can help, but…”
The problem was how to say it. To find the real trend line amidst this messy data, an arithmetic mean would be nowhere near enough. To provide a proper value, I would have to perform a regression analysis…
‘It’s only been a year since calculus was devised, so there’s no way something like that properly exists.’
If I just announced the result in this state, I would become a prophet. It was impossible to selectively analyze only some of the data, like when calculating planetary orbits in the Principia. If someone asked why I picked these specific data points out of hundreds or thousands, I would have no answer.
I should probably start delving into statistics soon.
‘Just like with calculus, there might be a co-discoverer this time too…’
Let’s ask around and see if anyone already knows about it. It was a relief that I didn’t have to post the problem on parchment like before. I picked up the dwarven-made ballpoint pen that Balkan had given me and wrote on a piece of paper.
[Problem: Mage Charles conducted 100 experiments to measure the range of an improved fireball. Mage Jane measured the results, and the outcome of each experiment is as follows (data table attached). Find the magic circle for the improved fireball and describe why it is the best answer.]
The magic part was easy, so anyone who knew the method of least squares would be able to solve it. I put the problem in an envelope and sent it to the magic magazine, Weekly Magic Norbert Kuhn.
The advent of paper gave birth to the publishing world. Of course, the concept of publishing existed even in the days of parchment and papyrus. But it was the exclusive domain of a very small number of nobles and did not give rise to an industry that could be called a “publishing world.”
But now, if you went to any city of a decent size, you could find magazines made of paper. Among them, the most popular among mages was Weekly Magic Norbert Kuhn. The secret to Norbert Kuhn’s magazine becoming number one was on the last page.
There, the ‘Magic Quiz of the Week’ was featured.
[If you are the only one who knows the answer to a problem that no one can solve, we will give you 100,000 gold coins!]
This phrase captured the hearts of penniless Magic Tower students and nobles with intellectual vanity. In the Magic Tower lounge, a student said.
“Hey. Did you see this week’s Norbert Kuhn problem?”
“You mean problem number 7?”
“Yeah. It was ridiculously hard.”
“I know… What was her name again? Yong-hui? How did she use her detection spell to get such large errors. They shouldn’t accept someone who experiments like this as a researcher.”
“Calm down… it’s just a problem.”
“…So did you solve it?”
“No.” “Me neither.”
Hahaha.
It wasn’t just the Magic Tower students. For that week’s ‘Charles and Jane Fireball Problem,’ there wasn’t a single correct answer. In such cases, the problem would be covered again in a feature article the following week.
If, even then, no answer emerged, the person who submitted the problem would publish the solution in the magazine and pocket the 100,000 gold coins.
And so…
At the editorial office of Weekly Magic Norbert Kuhn.
Haa…
Editor-in-chief Norbert Kuhn let out a deep sigh.
“The feature article isn’t coming out…”
No matter how much he squeezed his magazine’s mages, none of them could write an explanation for the ‘fireball problem.’ Because no one could solve it. Norbert Kuhn’s subordinate asked him.
“This… did he know the answer when he sent the question?”
“Of course, he did!”
The questioner was the Isaac Upperhills. There was no way he didn’t know.
‘But if I ask Sir Isaac for the answer now…’
He would have to cough up the prize money he had used to promote the question column. A whopping 100,000 gold coins. …In truth, Norbert Kuhn, the editor-in-chief and owner, didn’t have that kind of money. If he had that much money, he would live quietly on his own, not run a business.
“What on earth am I supposed to do?”
Norbert Kuhn stared at the table of physical quantities for about 100 fireballs. In his youth, Norbert Kuhn had also been an elite mage. But even he could do nothing with such messy, error-filled data.
To find the truth from a collection of wrong data… It seemed like something only an omniscient god could do.
‘Could it be that Sir Isaac is a god…?’
Is that why he knows the answer? In the end, the editor-in-chief raised the white flag. He met Isaac in person, bowed his head low, and said.
“I’m sorry… The truth is, the prize money of 100,000 gold coins… never existed in the first place.”
“Is that so?”
Isaac seemed to have no idea about the prize money.
“But I’ll somehow take out a loan and…!”
“No, I don’t particularly need the prize money, so please just grant me one request.”
“A request… what would that be?”
“What it is…”
Isaac asked the editor-in-chief to put out an announcement in the next issue.
“With something like that… can I repay a debt of 100,000 gold coins?”
“If you promise not to commit fraud anymore, I think it’s fine. There are no victims yet, after all.”
“…I will live my life in atonement from now on.”
To be let off the hook like this. The editor-in-chief vowed to offer a prayer every day in the direction of the Upperhills Foundation.
[Weekly Magic Norbert Kuhn – Apology Notice – We apologize for being unable to publish the solution to last week’s problem number 7. Furthermore, as we were unable to secure the promised prize of 100,000 gold coins, we have decided to voluntarily cease publication… (Omitted) On the other hand, the submitter, Sir Isaac Upperhills, has expressed his willingness to co-author a paper with anyone who solves this problem. We ask for your keen interest.]
This single announcement turned the world of magic upside down. A co-authored paper with Isaac! There was a saying that one well-written paper was better than a hundred sheep.
Some fussy mages argued that ‘now that the parchment industry has declined, it should be changed to around 500 sheep’… but that wasn’t important. This was a co-authored paper with Isaac. At this, everyone from broke mages looking for a windfall to nobles burning with a thirst for honor jumped at the chance.
And among them, the best were, of course, the ‘Isaac Faction,’ who coveted anything related to Isaac. The residence of Count Ludwig Everglow, a leader of the southern Isaac Faction. During the Count’s mealtime, it was noisy outside the dining room.
“Did you see the Norbert Kuhn problem?”
“Ah, that one. Turns out Sir Isaac submitted it himself. No wonder it was so hard.”
“Still, since the Count himself has stepped up, it should be solved soon.”
“I know, right. At this rate, His Excellency the Count might write a paper before Lady Gwendolyn does.”
“…If you had said that in front of the young lady, you might have been roasted to a crisp.”
“Gulp!”
Inside the dining room were Ludwig and his wife. Ludwig sat at the table, cutting a piece of turkey. But his eyes were not on the meat, but staring into the air.
“Hmm…”
Fire magic was his specialty. So he had thought Isaac’s problem would be easy… but that was a grave miscalculation.
“Should I apply an absolute value to the error? But then that creates a point of discontinuity, making the analysis difficult…”
“Honey. Do you have to talk about work even while we’re eating?”
The Countess, sitting opposite him, shot him a glare.
“Ah. I’m sorry. I can’t help it when a thought comes to mind…”
“…Is that so? You can’t help it? Do you even know how many days you’ve been like this?”
“…”
The Countess smiled brightly and said.
“Then I shall leave so as not to disturb your thoughts.”
“…?”
His wife put down her fork and left the dining room.
Slam!
Ludwig stared blankly at the closed door. She seemed thoroughly angry.
‘I should apologize, shouldn’t I…?’
But if he stopped thinking now, he felt he would never be able to solve this problem.
‘…She’s angry anyway, so let’s beg for forgiveness after I solve it.’
Ludwig began to scribble equations on a napkin. Right now, the range of the fireball was more important than peace in his home. Following Ludwig, who had turned his back on his family, talented individuals from all over the Empire threw themselves into this problem.
The Red Fortress in the northern Empire.
“Let’s try grouping them into several clusters and taking the average.”
“…How would you group them?”
“How should I know. You think about it too.”
The Imperial Magic Research Institute.
“Damn, I can’t choose which data to discard. Should I look for more literature?”
“Director… it’s been three days. The schedule for the imperial project is about to fall behind.”
“Then you help out too!”
The eastern underworld of the Empire.
“Should I try participating under a false name? I think I can do it.”
“Stop it… if we get tracked, we’ll all die together.”
“Since it’s come to this, let’s just wipe our pasts clean and start fresh.”
Regardless of age, gender, or status, the mages of the Empire were all mesmerized, clinging to Isaac’s problem.