Hans drew in a long breath, as if he were forcing himself to dig up an old wound that had already begun to rot.
"Once…" he began, his voice quieter than before, yet strangely steadier, "I was a professor at Eldun Academy."
The words made the room fall silent in a different way. Stella's faint smile disappeared. Ivan's laughter died in his throat. Even Arad, who had been watching Hans with a calm expression, seemed to focus more sharply.
Hans lowered his gaze to the floorboards. The old wood beneath his feet was scratched and damp from years of neglect, but he stared at it as if he were looking into the past instead.
"I dedicated my life to researching the fusion of mana structures with mechanical logic," he continued. "A system where spell formulas could be arranged, repeated, and controlled through physical mechanisms. Not merely cast through instinct or chant, but processed through design, calculation, and structure."
His fingers tightened around nothing. He had thrown away none of his fear, not yet, but the more he spoke, the more his voice began to resemble that of a scholar rather than a failed mercenary.
"But to those with ancient thoughts and rusted pride, my research was heresy." A bitter smile pulled at his lips. "They said I was trying to stain the purity of magic with failed mechanical tricks. They laughed at my papers. They called my experiments vulgar, crude, and unnatural."
Hans slowly clenched his thin hands. His knuckles turned pale beneath the skin.
"I was dismissed. My title was stripped away. My name was removed from academic records, and every door that had once opened for Professor Hans Carter shut in my face." His voice trembled once, but he forced it back under control. "No laboratory would accept me. No patron wanted to risk angering Eldun's elders. No academy would even allow me to step past the gate."
The room was so quiet that I could hear the faint creak of the window frame behind me. Outside, the wind brushed against the walls with a low, restless sound, as if the village itself were listening.
"In the end, I became a mercenary," Hans said. "Not because I was suited for it. Not because I had courage. I became one because it was the only way I could keep my stomach from being empty."
He lifted his head and looked at me.
For the first time since I had called his name, there was something sharp behind his glasses. Fear still lingered around him, but beneath it, a stubborn spark of rebellion had begun to burn.
"If you want me to work, I accept," Hans said. "If you want me to organize documents, calculate supplies, or write reports, I will do it. But I have one condition."
Ivan raised a brow. Stella's eyes widened slightly. Arad remained silent, but his gaze shifted toward me, waiting for my response.
Hans swallowed, then spoke with a seriousness that made his thin frame seem less fragile. "I want absolute freedom in my research. Do not tell me what I am allowed to question. Do not forbid me from touching subjects others call dangerous or foolish. Do not cage my thoughts again, Lord Fragha."
I stared at him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
A genius always had a price. Sometimes it was money. Sometimes it was pride. In Hans Carter's case, it was the one thing that had been stolen from him so thoroughly that even his cowardice could not bury his hunger for it.
Freedom.
"In Constantia," I said, "the only boundary is usefulness."
Hans froze.
"If your research strengthens this village, you will receive the materials, space, and support you need." I leaned forward slightly, letting my voice settle over the room with calm certainty. "I accept your condition, Hans Carter. You will be granted absolute freedom in your research."
Hans stared at me as though I had spoken in a language he had forgotten he understood.
"Absolute… freedom?" he whispered.
His voice had gone hoarse. The words seemed too large for him to believe, too dangerous to hold without them shattering.
"You will truly allow me to continue the research on fusing mana and mechanical logic?" His eyes searched my face with desperate suspicion. "The same research those old Eldun elders called heretical?"
I nodded slowly, keeping the expression of a leader who had already made his decision.
"Hans," I said, "in Constantia, the only heresy is wasting a mind like yours."
Something inside him broke.
Or perhaps, something inside him finally came loose.
The years of carrying the name of a failed Rank E mercenary, the humiliation of being treated as a weak man, the shame of fainting beneath another person's aura, and the bitterness of being cast out of Eldun's academic world because his ideas were deemed worthless—all of it seemed to collapse at once.
"WUHUU!! I'M NOT A TRASH MERCENARY ANYMORE!"
Hans suddenly threw both hands into the air and shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice cracked so sharply that Stella flinched, and Ivan's thick brows drew together in confusion.
Before anyone could stop him, Hans spun toward the doorway with unexpected drama. He grabbed the battered wooden magic staff he had been clinging to all this time, the poor, scratched symbol of his poverty and miserable disguise as a mercenary, and lifted it high above his head.
"Begone, cursed thing!" he cried, his face flushed with wild liberation. "I am a researcher once again!"
With all the strength he could gather, Hans hurled the staff toward the open door.
Pluk.
Because of his Strength F, the staff did not fly out with the heroic force he had imagined. It drifted forward for barely two meters, turning once in the air before falling pathetically onto a pile of dirt just outside the doorway.
For a brief second, no one moved.
Hans, who had thrown it with far too much enthusiasm, stumbled forward after the motion. His arms flailed once, his knees buckled slightly, and he nearly planted his face into the floor before somehow catching himself. He straightened with great effort, his glasses sliding down his nose and his cheeks turning red from both embarrassment and happiness.
"Ahem…" Hans adjusted his glasses with shaking fingers. "My apologies, Lord Fragha. I was… slightly carried away."
The silence broke.
Arad's stern mouth curved into a small smile. Stella covered her lips with one hand, but a soft laugh still slipped through. Ivan, on the other hand, did not bother restraining himself.
"Hoihoihoi!" he laughed, slapping his own thigh. "That was the saddest throw I've ever seen from a man declaring his rebirth!"
Hans coughed again, his face reddening further. "My value lies in my intellect, not my muscles."
"So you admit the throw was terrible?"
"I admit nothing unnecessary."
The small exchange loosened the air in the room. For a moment, the heavy atmosphere that had surrounded these former slaves, failed men, and wounded souls faded into something almost warm.
But beneath Hans's overflowing joy, his Intelligence SS had already begun to move at a terrifying speed.
As he bowed to me, a sharp thought flashed through his mind.
Wait a second.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind his glasses. His gaze dropped, not to my face, but to my shoes, as though looking directly at me might reveal too much of his suspicion.
Information from Viktor? Impossible. I was a former professor of Eldun. I know how slave traders operate. They record age, race, health, price, and obvious skills. They do not write down the forbidden research interests of a failed mercenary in some shipping list.
Hans kept his posture low, but his mind continued racing.
Lord Fragha knew I was more useful as a researcher before I said a word. He knew exactly what I wanted most. It is as if he looked into my head before I even opened my mouth.
A chill crawled along his back.
His first guess was absurd, yet he could not fully dismiss it. Perhaps Fragha possessed some ability to see through the souls of men. Or perhaps he was someone capable of predicting the future with an accuracy that defied common sense.
This makes no logical sense, Hans thought. But what do I care? If he is truly a demon who can read minds, then at least he is a demon who gives me an absolute freedom in my research.
His lips twitched.
If this is a gamble with my future, then I will bet on this man.
Hans finally raised his head. The smile he gave me was more sincere than before, though the suspicion remained locked away in the deepest corner of his mind.