Lunchtime.
After making do with a can of soup from the cupboard, Oscar left his room.
[10th Floor.]
When the mana elevator doors opened, a wave of vivid colors spread before his eyes.
This was the garden on the 10th floor, a place he often visited for a walk whenever he needed to think deeply.
Since an entire floor had been turned into a garden, calling it a grand park would have been more fitting.
"Mm, nice."
The fresh air seeped deep into his lungs, leaving him refreshed.
Oscar loosened his stiff body with some light stretches.
'This guy must have spent all his time shut up in his room doing research. His basic stamina isn't very good.'
Hadn't a single trip outside exhausted him just yesterday?
To be honest, that part was a little disappointing.
The complete mage Oscar pursued had to possess physical capabilities on par with a knight's.
More than anything, the 'Oscar-style combat method' required the stamina to support it.
'Let's start with one easy lap.'
As he began jogging slowly, the surrounding scenery swept past him.
Perhaps thanks to the fresh oxygen reaching his brain, his mind felt clearer too.
'This should mean I've gotten the first step right, at least.'
He had successfully restored Oscar Crucian's physical circuits to normal, fulfilling Oscar Crucian's wish.
Of course, eight circuits were still bound, but freeing them now carried far too much risk.
'I should wait until I'm at least Level 5. By then, I'll have built a body capable of enduring most shocks.'
Oscar could give up on the Eight Extraordinary Meridians so readily because he did not need them yet.
Those circuits were only used when casting high-level magic.
'......The new mana breathing method is working well too.'
At that very moment, he was absorbing mana without pause.
The method's greatest advantage was that he could maintain it twenty-four hours a day, even while asleep.
Everything about it was perfect, aside from his subordinates arbitrarily giving it the awful name 'Oscar-style Breathing Method'.
'Barring any trouble, I can reach Level 3 within two months and Level 4 within half a year.'
At that point, no one would dismiss him as a half-baked mage wherever he went.
But even that would be too late when he considered the approaching White Night Festival.
Oscar, who had been jogging while lost in thought, gradually slowed down.
"This place......."
He had arrived at the clearing where he had taught his disciples in that still-vivid dream.
Recalling the dream once more, he gazed at the clearing with a slightly forlorn look.
'I promised Lloyd that I'd give him more private lessons. So I made a promise like that too.'
Honestly, he had not even remembered it.
After that day, the war had intensified, and he had gradually spent more time on the battlefield than in the magic tower.
He had spent more time among corpses than with his disciples.
"......."
What kind of guy called himself a master yet broke more promises than he kept?
He felt sorry for Lloyd for a moment, only for a sense of hurt to well up again.
'No, even so, becoming the Red Tower Master's disciple is a bit much, isn't it?'
That man was worse at magic than Oscar and had a strange personality to boot.
And frankly, Oscar won hands down in looks too.
'......More importantly, that old man is a terrible match for Lloyd.'
He was the complete opposite of the precocious yet sensitive Lloyd in the way he thought.
Lloyd was Oscar's disciple in particular, so the old man would surely mistreat him in ways both obvious and subtle. Lloyd must have suffered terribly.
Even so, there must have been a good reason Lloyd had chosen to serve him as his master.
'I want to know.'
Oscar was desperate to ask what on earth had happened and why Lloyd had made that choice.
But doing so right away would be difficult.
A Level 2 mage could never meet someone as far above him as the Red Tower Master's disciple.
"In the end, does it all come back to the White Tower?"
As he rebuilt the fallen White Tower, his own reputation would rise along with it.
Then, one day, he might get a chance to speak with Lloyd.
'......Now then, where would repairs have the greatest effect?'
Inside his head was a vast trove of knowledge worthy of being called the history of the White Tower.
Most of it was no longer found in the current White Tower.
It had all been lost when the demons invaded twenty years ago.
'Fortunately, it won't look too unnatural if I reveal it bit by bit.'
That was thanks to the existence of Oscar Crucian.
As a theoretical mage once hailed as a genius, Crucian had researched every field like a madman.
In other words, even if Oscar casually presented results as the fruits of that research, there would be little room for suspicion.
Oscar was steadily building a plan to restore the White Tower in his mind when it happened.
"Hm?"
An old man in a caretaker's uniform approached along the opposite path and greeted him warmly.
"Is that you, Little Oscar?"
"......And you are?"
The old man looked saddened by his question and bowed his head.
"I'm Walter, an old man from the magic tower's Facilities Maintenance Department. So the rumor that you lost your memory in an accident was true."
"Yes, well. That's what happened. Were you and I close, sir?"
"Mm. I don't know whether I dare call us close, but whenever you ran into me, Little Oscar, you would often stop and chat."
"That's...... unexpected. Fran said I had such a foul personality that hardly anyone was willing to talk to me."
Walter laughed heartily at that.
"Ha ha! It's true that you didn't get along well with the others, Little Oscar, but I don't believe that was because you had a difficult personality. In my eyes, you had a warmer heart than anyone."
"Then Fran lied to me."
"Mm, well......."
Since Walter did not exactly call it a lie, this guy's personality really must have had its problems too.
"By the way, what do you mean by Little Oscar? I don't think I'm particularly short."
"Ah, I worked here when the previous Tower Master was still with us. He is Great Oscar to me."
"......."
Oscar was grateful.
Even after twenty years had passed, someone still remembered him.
With a gentle smile on his lips, Oscar spoke.
"That's a wonderful way to distinguish us. I'll have to use it too. I'll stop by from time to time, so please keep me company when I do."
"Heh heh, I'm truly grateful for the offer...... but I'm afraid that will be difficult."
"......."
He was being rejected here? Did this guy really have that much wrong with his personality?
When Oscar's dismay showed plainly, Walter hurried to continue.
"Ah, of course I don't mean I dislike the idea. I only say so because I'll be leaving this magic tower."
"Leaving? Where are you going?"
"......It's been nearly forty years since I began working at this magic tower. In that time, I've served three Tower Masters, and more colleagues than I could ever count have come and gone. Now I'm the only one left in my department. Heh heh."
Slowly bending down, he stroked a flower in full bloom with his wrinkled hand.
"Oscar Sage, the former Tower Master, said this at his inauguration. No one living in this tower was unnecessary, so he asked us to live with pride in the fact that we belonged to the White Tower."
"Ahem."
This was more embarrassing than he had expected.
Back then, he had been elated by becoming the youngest Tower Master in history.
That must have been why he could spout something so mortifying without hesitation.
"You may find it laughable, but ever since that day, I've worked while considering myself a member of this magic tower."
"It's not laughable. I mean that sincerely."
Oscar spoke with the utmost seriousness.
The Facilities Maintenance Department's role was to maintain and repair the magic tower's various facilities.
It might not sound especially important, but without them, the tower would quickly begin to creak at the seams.
"You're looking so serious that I feel embarrassed for no reason. Anyway, that is why I intend to quit."
"......What on earth do you mean?"
He took pride in belonging to the White Tower, so he was quitting?
Walter slowly straightened and began to speak.
"As you know, Little Oscar, the White Tower is in dire straits. Those of us who work in the field feel it most keenly. Facilities I've regarded as old friends are shutting down one by one, and we aren't even properly supplied with the parts needed to repair them."
"......."
"That is all because the magic tower's finances are poor. But next month will mark exactly forty years since I began working at the White Tower. Do you know what that means?"
Of course he did.
Oscar's gaze grew somber.
"......It's because of the long-service bonus."
Every White Tower employee other than mages received a bonus and a plaque of appreciation after twenty and forty years of service.
The bonus awarded to someone who had devoted forty years to the White Tower was a staggering 200,000 Bell.
That was enough to buy a house in most major cities.
Walter gave a wistful smile and slowly nodded at his answer.
"That's right. Unless I'm mistaken, the White Tower can't afford a bonus that large right now. To raise the money, the Tower Master and countless others would likely have to risk their lives completing new commissions. Once I thought of that...... I simply couldn't accept the money. Whatever anyone says, this place is my second home."
"......."
Those unexpected words left Oscar speechless.
The White Tower of this era had undoubtedly fallen.
He knew that from what he had seen and heard.
'But.......'
He had not known its finances were so poor that an employee had to give up what was rightfully his.
When that realization struck, shame and anger surged within him at once.
'......I said the Blue Tower was making a circus of itself just to earn a few coins.'
Who was he, and what made him so great that he could disparage and belittle their efforts?
At the very least, the money they had earned that way had brought them the greatest golden age in their history.
'Whereas I.......'
A war hero. Humanity's savior.
Nothing but hollow titles that were useless in every way.
They were merely fleeting illusions, incapable of paying even a bonus to someone who had devoted decades to the White Tower.
"L-Little Oscar! Blood! Your hand is bleeding!"
Startled, Walter rushed over, wiped the blood away with a handkerchief, and even wrapped a bandage around it.
"Why did you clench your fist so hard? Your nails dug into your palm. Doesn't it hurt?"
"......."
Oscar looked down at Walter's snow-white hair and could say nothing.
The guilt piercing his heart hurt far more than the stinging pain in his palm.
Biting down hard on his lip, Oscar realized what the magic tower needed most right now.
'Money.'
Intoxicated by the abundance of his days as Tower Master, he had completely forgotten.
Breathing room came from a well-stocked storehouse.
Oscar asked in a low, somber voice.
"When are you planning to leave?"
"I intend to leave in two weeks."
Two weeks.
Oscar stared at the handkerchief tied around his palm and spoke.
"......I'd like you to keep being someone I can talk to from now on."
"But I'll soon......."
"You don't have to leave."
Because he would make sure something like this never happened again.
"I'll make it happen."
Restoring the magic tower to normal.
The first goal he set toward that end was securing funds.