Chapter 30: Flower Blooming in the Plague (5)

A long time ago.

Back when I was a young man in the 21st Century Republic of Korea, fresh out of medical school.

I went on a graduation trip with a few of my close peers.

During that trip, one of my peers said something like this.

— "I think this fire steel is defective. It won't light."

— "You idiot. Who the hell tries to strike it against green wood?"

— "What are you talking about? It's camping, of course you light a fire on wood. What else would I use?"

— "Gyeong-jun. Do you really think a freshly broken branch will catch fire? If it did, why would firebreak forests even exist?"

— "What's a firebreak forest?"

— "Hah, fuck. Never mind. How did this guy even pass the National Exam, seriously."

The firewood that guy—the one in charge of the fire—had prepared was nothing more than a few branches he’d snapped off a tree in his front yard.

Naturally, there was no way the fresh branches he had just broken off that morning would light properly.

Thanks to that one idiot, our group almost couldn't eat the meat we had brought.

Fortunately, we were able to trade for some charcoal with a kind newlywed couple at the next campsite.

'The most ridiculous part was that the guy was a butcher's son.'

It was a truly absurd incident.

And the reason I suddenly recalled that memory was because the current situation could be compared to it.

Magic, in the end, is not so different from science.

The fewer the conditions or symbols, the more magical power is needed to activate the magic.

It can be compared to how more magical power is needed to cast flame magic in a humid place.

The same goes for curses.

The higher the target's magical power, or the more sacred their status, the more magical power the curse requires, increasing exponentially.

The reason black magicians favor the Curse of Pestilence is closely related to this.

Just as disease afflicts people regardless of their social status, the Curse of Pestilence is not affected by the target's status.

'This all happens because the concept of immunity has not yet been discovered.'

Considering the lack of a concept of hygiene, it was only natural, really.

It seemed this was also why Belgian, a Rank 2, had chosen the Curse of Pestilence.

The title I held, Angel of the Brothel District, could function as a kind of sacred status.

In addition, using smallpox as the catalyst for the plague was a very effective choice.

Because even in my previous life, smallpox was a disease so vicious it was used as a biochemical weapon.

The problem was that he didn't know we were immune to smallpox.

'Because I vaccinated everyone in secret.'

The very first thing I did after opening my clinic was administer smallpox vaccinations.

After all, modern medicine requires the prevention of smallpox as a basic premise before anything else can be discussed.

The method was the cowpox method.

I vaccinated each patient who came by secretly smearing cow's cowpox pus on their arm.

For the record, the reason I did it secretly is because, in this world setting, explaining the cowpox method truthfully would be the perfect way to get framed as a black magician and executed by burning.

As they say, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

I'll get permission later, once I'm more famous.

And Erika and Wangcho had also acquired immunity to smallpox in this manner.

'I was curious how a curse of pestilence would work on an immune person, and to think I'd find out like this.'

I thought, looking at my skin, which was so smooth it was hard to believe I had just been cursed.

Just in case, I had Erika check as well.

"Do you feel anything strange from me?"

"No? You seem healthy."

Okay.

So it's not even in its incubation period.

Only after being reassured did I meet the eyes of the black magician staggering in the distance from mana sickness.

The bewilderment in Belgian's eyes was palpable.

"What in the world did you do...?!"

"Who knows."

"Please, I beg you, tell me! How did you Dispel my magic!"

Dispel.

It's a phenomenon where, if a magic's conditional statement is inserted incorrectly, only mana is consumed and the magic fails to activate.

Taking flame magic as an example, to activate the spell, the humidity and temperature must be accurately written into the runic formula.

If the margin of error is too large, only mana is consumed and no fire appears, which is what's called a Dispel.

And in battles between wizards, a technique exists that uses this phenomenon to neutralize an opponent's magic.

By disrupting a condition or environmental factor that the opponent overlooked, one can prevent the magic from activating in the first place.

"Tell me, Teacher Schnabel! Do you possess some black magic knowledge unknown to me!"

Belgian seemed to be under the firm delusion that I had performed that Dispel.

In reality, all that happened was that a single condition, immunity, was coincidentally added.

"Please—"

"Wangcho. Shoot."

I didn't answer Belgian, and instead handed the gun to Wangcho.

Wangcho pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

The revolver's muzzle spat a blue flame.

The silver bullet left a blue trail in the night air as it flew toward Belgian.

"Keuk!"

Belgian's body was sent flying to the far end of the alleyway.

A red flower bloomed on his fallen shoulder.

"Damn, I missed. My apologies. I'm not used to pistols."

"It's alright, Wangcho."

The reason I told Wangcho to shoot instead of Otto was because the opponent was Rank 2.

I didn't know what kind of defensive measures a Rank 2 might have, so I had Wangcho, a Rank 1, pull the trigger.

"I never thought he was an opponent Wangcho could take down in a single shot anyway."

And Wangcho's role wasn't to finish Belgian off.

It was to significantly weaken him.

"Otto."

Bang!

A finishing blow was fired immediately.

Once again, a blue trajectory shot toward Belgian.

But the second ammunition did not reach him.

Slosh!

A black liquid erupted like a fountain from Belgian's shadow and swallowed the ammunition.

The liquid that swallowed the ammunition then swallowed Belgian as well, disappearing into the city's darkness.

"Damn it!"

Wangcho snapped his fingers in regret.

"They say you should even take down a lion with one shot. Letting a Rank 2 get away leaves a bad taste in my mouth..."

"He'll probably be fine."

I said, as if to appease the worried Wangcho.

"You don't have to be so regretful. One shot landed."

"But he's still alive."

"That's an ammunition that can leave even a Rank 4 Count-level powerhouse with a permanent disability if hit wrong. Even if he survives, he won't be a threat to us anymore."

The silver bullet's ability wasn't just to neutralize magic.

When this ammunition hits a wizard, it injects divine power into their mana circuit.

This divine power, like a blood clot in a blood vessel, remains in the wizard's mana reactor and interferes with the activation of magic for the rest of their life.

Moreover, divine power is not naturally excreted, so the only way to remove it is to enter the clergy and learn divine magic.

The problem is that there's no way the clergy would teach divine magic to a black magician.

In other words, Belgian has effectively developed a constitution that makes it difficult for him to activate magic for the rest of his life.

"As a mage, he's practically dead."

He might be able to research magic in some back room, but he won't be able to engage in actual combat on battlefields or in back alleys anymore.

That's why I didn't think Belgian, who had fled into the darkness, would be a threat to us any longer.

"If that's the case, then it's a relief."

Still, Wangcho smacked his lips as if he was still disappointed.

He returned the empty pistol to me.

I put away the gun and approached the spot where Belgian had been standing just moments before.

On top of the mud puddle where the black liquid had swallowed him and vanished, a single old, thick leather notebook lay abandoned.

I crouched down and picked up the notebook, stained with mud and blood.

"Huh? What's that?"

Erika, who had been trotting along behind me, tilted her head as she looked at the notebook.

"It's a grimoire."

"What's that?"

"A mage's memorization notes. You have one too."

"This?"

Erika pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from her pocket.

A scrap of paper on which she had densely written things to memorize Exception Handling.

I nodded as I looked at it.

"I suppose you could call that a grimoire, too."

"Then what's written in that mister's grimoire? Don't tell me it's forbidden knowledge...?"

"There's nothing like that."

Just because it's a black magician's grimoire doesn't mean it contains any more unholy content than other wizards'.

It just has their secret methods for reciting chants written in it.

It's just like how people memorize the periodic table of elements with mnemonics like H-He-Li-Be-B-C-N... something like that.

"In addition to that, Belgian's research results will be in here, too."

"Huh? Then why would he carry something so valuable around? Wouldn't it be better to keep it safe at home?"

It was Wangcho, not I, who answered Erika's question.

"This kiddo claims to be studying magic, yet she says such naive things."

"What did I say?"

"Hey, no matter how amazing a Rank 2 mage is, how could they possibly stuff all those complex conditional statements and chants into their head? A single formula can have dozens of variables."

Wangcho pointed at Erika's grimoire and said.

"You can't even memorize them."

"Uh... Well, that's true."

"Tsk. Just how lightly does this girl take magic?"

Wangcho took a tobacco pipe from his coat and put it in his mouth.

He didn't light it, just held it as if chewing on it.

"Usually, magic-users just memorize one or two spells they're most confident in, and for the rest, they carry a book under their arm and read from it to recall them on the spot. That's why guys who can cast a bunch of spells without a book are called Archmages. You're an aspiring mage and you don't even know that?"

Erika tilted her head at Wangcho's explanation.

Then, she whipped her head toward me and pointed.

"Huh? But our teacher wrote them all out on the chalkboard without looking at a book or anything."

"Hey, about five is possible for a genius..."

"It was thirty! And he said I had to memorize that many too!"

At Erika's revelation, Wangcho's gaze slid over to me.

I shrugged and nodded.

Who am I?

The one who did a three-year course in three months...

A genius, anyway.

Recalling that fact, Wangcho's expression soured.

"Fuck. That face and that brain, isn't that cheating? Please let it be 3 centimeters."

"...?"

"It's nothing."

What was that? I feel like I just heard a harsh insult.

Wangcho awkwardly averted his gaze from me.

Instead, he brought the situation to a close by giving Erika a light nuggie with his thick fist.

"Ouch!"

"Kiddo. A genius isn't called a genius for nothing."

Wangcho ended his explanation with a dry cough.

I shifted my gaze from them back to the notebook in my hand.

The precious research journal of a Rank 2 Black Magician.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't curious.

But checking the contents could wait.

"For now, let's go home."

Lately, I feel like I'm leaving work later and later.

I stopped Wangcho and Erika, who were still bickering, and hurried us on our way home.

"Mr. Otto, let's get ready to head up..."

It was then.

Cough!

Suddenly, Otto started coughing uncontrollably.

Cough! Cough!

His body trembled like an aspen leaf.

At the sight of him suddenly starting to cough, Erika and Wangcho slowly backed away.

"Don't tell me..."

"The curse..."

I immediately put an end to their anxiety.

"That's impossible..."

Otto definitely received a vaccination from me too.

There's no way he could be cursed...

Ah.

"Otto."

"Yes, cough."

"Take sick leave for the time being."

"What?"

"I'm telling you to go home and rest."

Come to think of it, Otto was the only one whose vaccination was late.

He's a bodyguard, so I remember he kept putting off seeing me until he finally got it a few days ago.

When he returned after his torn face had healed, I was just barely able to give it to him secretly under the pretext of a medical check-up.

That was about four days ago.

In other words, among everyone here, he was the only one whose immunity level for smallpox had not fully developed yet.

"Don't tell me... the curse..."

"It's not that, it'll be something like a severe cold."

Because he encountered the curse before his immunity had settled, it seemed some symptoms were appearing.

It'll be much less severe than for someone who wasn't vaccinated.

His life probably won't be in danger.

Still, he'll suffer at the level of the flu.

Considering it was the curse of a Rank 2 wizard, it might be just a little worse than that.

Naturally, in cases like this, there's no answer but natural recovery.

That's why I prescribed sick leave for Otto.

But it seemed Otto was not pleased with my prescription.

"I'm... alrigh..."

Thud.

He collapsed without finishing his sentence.

I sighed, looking at my bodyguard and chauffeur who had collapsed on the cold stone floor.

"Wangcho."

"Yes. I'll lend you a communication magic tool. You can rest in my restaurant in the meantime."

Sigh.

Is he really a bodyguard?

A few hours later.

We were finally able to go up to the house with the Head Butler, who had come down after being contacted.