The World of this Fantasy Novel is in Crisis

The conversation flowed smoothly. Rufus offered Satin advice while simultaneously going about his chores. After scrubbing all the pots, he dried the washed dishes and began prepping vegetables for dinner.

“What are you saving those for?”

Satin asked as he looked at the vegetable scraps left over from the trimming. Rufus responded casually.

“To burn them.”

“Do you burn all your trash?”

“Not all of it. Stuff that doesn’t rot—I separate those. The guys who deliver ingredients pick them up.”

“The trash? Why?”

“Because it’s useful for something.”

Rufus shrugged and grinned.

“I thought it was a joke at first. That they’d pay you just to take your garbage.”

He’d heard before that waste paper and scrap metal could be sold for money. He wasn’t sure how recycling worked in this world, but surely they had ragpickers too. Still, Satin feigned ignorance and asked,

“That’s wild. How do you make money with trash?”

“You sort out the stuff that can still be used and sell it. The rest gets processed so it can be reused.”

“Never even thought of that. Making money from selling garbage…”

“People are always good at sniffing out money-making schemes. Compared to that, the old man is a real piece of work. Doing this kind of crap that doesn’t even pay…”

Rufus trailed off mid-sentence, suddenly snapping to attention as if he’d said too much. He narrowed his eyes.

“You planning on hanging around here all day?”

“Ah, I was just about to head out.”

Satin quickly stood up and stepped out of the kitchen.

He wanted to share what he’d just learned with Cain, so he made his way toward the archive. The kitchen was just a short walk from there. But before he could get far, someone called out from behind him.

“Satin.”

There weren’t many adults in the school whose voices carried like that. Satin turned quickly.

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Are you headed to the library?”

“Oh, yes. I figured I should study a bit. General knowledge and all…”

He smiled awkwardly, trying to read the teacher’s expression. Surely the teacher hadn’t come all the way to the kitchen hoping to mooch a snack.

“Did you need something from me?”

“Is Cain in the archive?”

“…I’m not sure. Want me to check?”

Why ask him about Cain’s whereabouts? Was this a subtle way of provoking him because they needed to keep Cain in check?

As Satin fidgeted and his eyes darted around, the teacher let out a faint smile.

“Come with me.”

The teacher turned without waiting for an answer. Satin shelved his plan to tell Cain the new information and followed, deciding to wait until dinner instead.

As they exited the hallway and began climbing the stairs, Satin asked cautiously,

“Um, is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, so don’t get anxious.”

“Okay…”

There was no one around, but it sounded like this wasn’t something they could discuss here. Satin fell silent and trailed behind.

He wondered if they were heading to the research lab, but instead, the teacher entered the study. It was a bit disappointing—but it was also Satin’s first time there. Trying not to seem too nosy, he glanced around the unfamiliar space like someone timidly exploring a new place.

Surprisingly, there weren’t many books. Then again, becoming a magician was no easy feat in this world. There was no reason for a mage’s library to be overflowing with texts.

“Fetch the book on the second shelf. The red one.”

Satin checked the bookshelf beside him. The second shelf from the bottom was empty—so it must mean the second from the top. He located the book with the red cover and pulled it out.

Meanwhile, the teacher had taken a seat at the desk by the window. Unlike the desk in his office, this one was positioned perpendicular to the window.

Satin hesitated for a moment before sitting across from him. With the light striking only one side of the teacher’s face, the aged features looked like a faded portrait in an old black-and-white photo.

“Open to the third chapter, and go through it slowly.”

He checked the table of contents and flipped to the third chapter. As he turned each page, he came across a section that had been underlined.

“There’s a marked section, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think that means?”

Same formula, same result, different conditions.

Magic is mysterious. It burns with heat, blows with force. It purges violently, and shakes things to their core.

But with a little thought, it takes on a different light. If you remove the human element as the user, the result of magic is no different from that of technology. Satin came from a world where magic didn’t exist, but where technology often surpassed it in convenience.

Technology reveals its true value when applied in the right context.

A humidifier in the dead of winter makes a room feel comfortable, but run the same humidifier during monsoon season and it just makes everything feel worse.

Wouldn’t the same apply to magic? Depending on the environment, it could be useful—or utterly useless. Or maybe just… less useful.

“If you create fire on a clear day, it burns easily. But on a rainy day, it might just fizzle out. Isn’t that what it’s saying?”

“Exactly. You don’t doubt the formula just because the fire didn’t catch on a rainy day.”

Then why underline something so obvious?

Hesitating, Satin carefully asked,

“Is this supposed to be important? It just feels like common sense…”

“I think so too,” the teacher replied.

“Then why mark it?”

“Let’s say it’s not fire. Better yet, let’s say it’s not even magic.”

The teacher smiled and leaned both arms on the desk. Instinctively, Satin pressed his back tightly against the chair.

The teacher asked,

“What do you think caused your memory loss?”

“…Maybe some kind of accident?”

“There are many kinds of accidents. Which kind do you think it was?”

What would be the most natural answer here?

Rufus, upon hearing about the memory loss, had immediately suggested that it might be the result of some magical research gone wrong. He hadn’t meant that Satin had been directly hit by magic. He was implying that it was a side effect from assisting with magical experiments—like bumping his head, for example.

The second rule of mages: A magician must not experiment on people with magic.

If one didn’t know the teacher was a dark magician, then Rufus’s line of thinking would make sense.

But Satin couldn’t afford to think like Rufus.

The teacher didn’t want a kind and innocent disciple.

He wanted the opposite. Someone who understood morality but was willing to act immorally anyway. Or someone who saw no need to draw a line between the two at all.

“I’ve been thinking it might’ve been an accident during your magical research. During an experiment, I mean.”

Satin glanced at the teacher, feigning concern.

“Maybe I was helping, and something went wrong… Did I mess something up? If there’s something I need to fix, please tell me.”

The message was clear: I know you did something unethical. But I don’t think it was wrong. In fact, I want to be involved again, like before.

The teacher smiled. Whether it was the right answer or not was impossible to tell from his expression. Satin couldn’t fully hide his unease as he waited for the teacher to speak.

Finally, the teacher said,

“If I gave you a difficult order right now, would you obey it?”

“A difficult order…?”

Satin tried to coax out an example, but the teacher didn’t take the bait.

“I’m wondering—if you lost your memory helping me with my research, would you still trust me and follow me again?”

There was no way that previous conversation had been random. Which meant it wasn’t hard to figure out the teacher’s intention.

He was going to give the same order as before. One that Satin had once followed without question—but now, the situation had changed.

Now that Satin had lost his memory, what would he think of that order? What if it required a judgment of right and wrong?

A test.

The teacher gazed at him intently. Satin returned the look in silence.

The answer here had already been decided.

“Just say the word.”

***

After returning from his meeting with the old man, Satin said,

“I think the old me might’ve brought kids to the teacher.”

“Knowing they’d die?”

“That part’s not certain. But I must’ve known it was dangerous.”

Cain had long wondered why Satin acted so tenderly toward the children. The reason had always seemed obvious—it was probably a ploy to stay in the deranged old man’s good graces.

What Cain didn’t understand was why being good with children scored any points in the first place. What did babysitting have to do with magical research?

But now, after hearing Satin speak, it made sense.

“That old bastard used you as a shield.”

There’s no perfect way to control children. No matter how many times you tell them not to speak of something, they’ll always end up blurting it out somewhere. If they were controllable, they wouldn’t be called children.

If the old man had lured the children away himself, someone might have grown suspicious. But if none of the kids spoke up about who raised concerns, there’d be no way to trace it back.

However, if the children were taken away through Satin, then even if someone did suspect foul play, the first person they’d blame would be Satin. The children liked him, sure—but at the same time, they saw him as fundamentally different from themselves.

Here, everyone went through the motions of living carefree lives, pretending to be close friends, but Cain knew the kids’ true nature. He couldn’t help but know it—he shared more in common with them than he liked to admit.

When a bad feeling crept in, the children would suspect Satin before they ever doubted the teacher. They’d convince themselves that Satin must have done something shady to stay in the old man’s good graces.

“I’d think the same, if I were them.”

It was safer that way. Suspecting the teacher meant giving up on the chance of a better life. Suspecting Satin meant risking nothing. And deep down, Cain was certain—some of them probably wanted Satin gone. They wanted to take his place.

Maybe if Satin had been the old man’s child, or a longtime disciple, they wouldn’t have thought that way. But he wasn’t. He was just a few years older than the rest of them, starting from the same position as everyone else. That alone made him a target for resentment.

“I think the teacher wants me to show the same loyalty as before.”

Satin spoke while staring at the floor.

They were sitting on their beds, facing each other, so his gaze naturally landed at Cain’s feet. Cain instinctively pulled them back. His feet, slipped into worn-out slippers, weren’t exactly pretty.

“Then again, whose feet look good in this place?”

It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. While Cain shifted his posture back to normal, Satin lifted his head.

“Still, it didn’t seem like he’s planning to hurt the kids right away.”

“Of course not. If kids start disappearing one after another, anyone would notice something’s wrong.”

“But he’s definitely thinking about something.”

“Like what?”

Satin stared at Cain in silence.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“The teacher’s got his eye on you.”