Research Life of a New Professor at Magic University

As a professor, I naturally welcome students with an intense thirst for knowledge.
If they express their determination to study diligently while thoroughly preparing and reviewing, why would anyone discourage them?

However, this is an entirely different case.
Writing a report that doesn’t need to be written?
No matter how much one loves studying, one wouldn’t do such a thing.

As Arien mentioned yesterday, the sole purpose is to earn brownie points from me.

“If you have something to say, just say it. What’s with this behavior?”

“Why are you suddenly like this? Is it not allowed?”

The problem is she hasn’t done anything wrong.
What pretext do we have to punish a student who diligently writes unnecessary reports?
Besides our suspicions, there’s no evidence.

Yet, overlooking it feels ominous.
Though I’m unsure of her intentions, she’ll continue like this until she achieves her goal.

Stella Lacton smiled mischievously as I stopped speaking.

“Well then, see you next time, Professor!”

She just bid goodbye and left.

Arien seems to have noticed this, too.
Instead of watching another student’s experiment, she approaches.

“Professor, what’s going on?”

“Just as you said, that student seems a bit strange.”

“Yeah, I told you. There’s a hidden agenda.”

“What could it be…”

There’s no shortage of guesses.
Instead, there are too many, and that’s the problem.
Wizards, nobles, students, and maintaining regional stability… It might not be a trivial matter.

“Still, there’s no need to worry too much. I don’t think there are any ill feelings towards you from the student. Just keep in mind that there’s a hidden agenda.”

“That’s something I don’t know.”

When it’s so blatantly obvious, it’s hard to ignore the fact that there’s an ulterior motive.
I’d like to ponder more, but now isn’t the best time for deep thinking.

Eventually, thoughts about Stella were set aside as the next student came in for evaluation.

***

Professor Atwell didn’t always give the same score for identical results. Even if two experiments yielded the same outcome—success in two and failure in one—it didn’t mean all would receive a B+ like the first student.

There were even cases where students received different scores for similar results.

No student ever complained.
From the beginning, Atwell had made it clear that he evaluated after listening to explanations and observing the process.

However, when you collected all the results, a particular pattern emerged, although the students couldn’t know since they didn’t share their results with each other.

You could see this even by looking at the results of the male student’s second attempt.

“You’re on your second try. Confident?”

“No….”

The student had once again focused too much on neutralizing the toxicity.
Because the professor had praised that aspect in the first attempt, he couldn’t ignore it this time either.

Thanks to that, the student’s potion succeeded again in only two places.
But it wasn’t exactly the same as before.
This time, it failed on the snake instead of the slime.

“If you submit it like this, you’ll get an A-. Will you submit it?”

“…What?”

The student replied almost unconsciously.
He was quietly disappointed, thinking it would be the same result.
But after receiving a better score, he hesitated, wondering if he had misheard.

“I don’t know why you questioned your improved grade, but I won’t deduct points for it.”

“But I don’t understand. Could you tell me why it’s higher when the results are similar to the last?”

“I’ll let you know after you submit it.”

The student hesitated for a moment.
This time, he had wasted too much time.
It was due to moving overly cautiously because of the previous failure.

Starting again now would be cutting it close time-wise.
However, receiving a catalyst would result in a deduction of points.

Even if he received an A, it would be reduced to an A-; hence, there was meaning in attempting the redo only if he could get an A+.
Even though he didn’t know why his score had increased, could he still achieve an A+ by redoing it?

The deliberation was brief.

“I’ll submit it.”

“Sure. I’ll tell you.
Actually, it might be good to see the results with that student who’s bringing them in.
She seems to know the reason.”

A female student from the Department of Magic brought in her results. She was the student who had submitted second and was disqualified due to toxicity.

Her results were similar to those of the male student before her.
She passed the toxicity test easily, but only two effectiveness tests passed.
However, she failed with the scorpion venom.

“Can you explain? You focused the most on the slime antidote, right?”

“Yes. Uh, scorpions and snakes, well… the wounds are small, right? Slime, on the other hand, spreads widely.
So it’s difficult to treat it like a wound, and… that’s why it seemed most important… right?”

“Yeah, well done. You’ve got an A. If you write a good report and submit it, I’ll raise it to an A+.”

“Thank you!”

The female student left the lab with light footsteps. The male student watching couldn’t hide his bewildered feelings.

“Is it really because of that?”

“That’s right. The most crucial thing in today’s experiment was the slime antidote.
With the right process, strong efficacy in all three can be achieved without toxicity, but if not, one must be sacrificed.
But this time, that one couldn’t be the slime.”

“No, I understand that the potion can be applied. But wasn’t it just mentioned in passing on the paper you handed out?”

“Yeah.”

Even though Atwell responded lightly in affirmation, the student couldn’t shake off the sense of injustice.

“Of course, we shouldn’t ignore a single word from the professor, but… for one thing to affect the grade…”

“There were plenty of hints besides that.”

“More hints?”

“Yeah. Remember when we talked about the volume?
We mentioned that there was only one scorpion, one snake, and the slime was also in small amounts.
But do slimes usually travel alone?”

Tiny slimes typically form colonies.
Although a single slime may appear as one, it’s often a fusion of multiple entities.

“They do, but…”

“At the beginning, we emphasized that the slime was also magical poison, right?
We said there were hardly any wizards in the beginner party.
And there were more hints on the bait we gave you at the start.

There were many hints that the slime was the main target in today’s experiment.
So, even though you failed one experiment the same way, the scores were different.
If you had noticed and explained even one reason, your score would’ve been an A. It’s a shame.”

Finally, he could understand.

“I see. Thank you for teaching me. I’ll make sure to write the report properly.”

“Yeah. I noticed your precision in measurements during the experiment.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The student attempted to leave with regret, but it seemed Atwell had more to say.

“You seem quick to understand. You didn’t miss the most important thing.”

“Yes? Oh… Yes… Thank you…”

With a lingering sense of understanding, the student left.

“You also have good judgment overall. If someone more talented were to assist you, it would be like giving wings to a bird, and you would succeed as if flying.”

The male student began to feel increasingly uneasy. Could it be… no, it couldn’t, right?

“If you’re interested in this kind of experiment, maybe consider graduate school next year…”

“Thank you! Goodbye!”

The male student left the laboratory in a daze.
Left behind, Professor Atwell muttered to himself in a voice so soft that even an elf’s ears wouldn’t catch it.

“You’re not as foolish as I thought…”

* * *

The only student who received an A+ in the first class was Stella Lacton.
Two students received A’s, making three perfect scores with their reports.

After writing their reports, three students went from B+ to A- or A.
The lowest score was a C-, which resulted from a student hastily adding additional catalysts after drinking water during the toxicity test.
The majority ranged from C to B.

The students’ performance was much worse than I anticipated.
Should I lower the difficulty for the next class?

The future of magic education in this country looks bleak.
Even a year before my university graduation, when I was fifteen, experiments of this level were a breeze.

After all the experiments were finished, Arien asked:

“Professor, wasn’t there quite a bit of spare catalyst left? Even if each person used it twice, some would still be left.”

“And?”

“Why did you impose such strict limitations?”

“Elves do have their naive side, after all.”

“Just tell me why.”

“They’re expensive.”

“No, really…”

“After class, I can handle the leftover materials at my discretion. The department allows it.”

I don’t engage in risky embezzlement-like behavior.
Not necessarily out of conscience but because I know how many people are eager to find fault in me.
Giving them an opportunity in such a situation wouldn’t be wise.

“…I understand. So, this is acceptable?”

“Yeah. I already had extra for you, but we got more from the leftovers.”

I have my justifications.
I stated I would evaluate the ability to complete the task with the given materials within the given time.

Buying those things from outside costs quite a bit of money.
Even if bought in bulk, they wouldn’t be fully utilized.

“Then let’s head back to our lab. Have you started making the report?”

“…Yes.”

Arien seems to be losing energy day by day. I really can’t figure out the reason.

***

It’s the Sunday after the practical class.
Arien and I are on our way back after having lunch together.
Ah, I must clarify, I’m not the kind of professor who calls research assistants in for personal work after work hours.

I can make that distinction.

We had lunch together on Sunday because both Arien and I were working that day.
So, there’s nothing suspicious about it.

“The marsh fern didn’t work either. I thought it had the highest potential among the remaining options.”

“What if none of the four options show any difference?”

“Originally, we should redo the experiment… but why the grim expression?
We should redo the experiment, but this is already a repetition of experiments.
We should try experimenting with different conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?”

“Instead of comparing with ordinary items, you divide them into superior and inferior grades and then compare. And it might be worth considering trying combinations of two items each.”

“…How many times would we have to do all that?”

“Can’t you calculate? First, there are superior grade, inferior grade, and ordinary mix—that’s three types. Each type has four items, and choosing two at a time gives us six combinations, so…”

“No, I meant…”

“Professor!”

Amidst my conversation with Arien, I heard someone calling for me.
Who could it be?

The first name that came to mind was Stella Lacton.
But it wasn’t her voice.
Stella’s voice is brighter and higher-pitched.

“Professor Atwell? It is you, right? It’s nice to see you again.”

The owner of the voice was dressed in a black priest’s robe, wearing a hexagonal emblem around their neck.
The beautiful woman with brown hair waved her hand with a sunny smile.

I didn’t recognize her immediately. Her demeanor was so different from last time that she almost seemed like a different person.

“Reverend Prudence?”

“You remember me?”

I’m not very good at remembering people’s names.
But no matter what, I couldn’t forget my first encounter with this person.

My money.

“Oh! Is this the elven graduate student you mentioned last time?”

“Yes, that’s right. Her name is Arien. Arien, say hello.”

“Hello. I’m Arienael.”

“Right, I shortened your name.”

“I’m Reverend Prudence, a resident priest at the university. Nice to meet you, Miss Arienael.”

Arien seemed awkward with the sudden encounter, but Prudence engaged warmly with a smile.
Despite her position as an inquisitor, I had some biases, but it seems she naturally has a friendly personality.

“Did Professor Atwell specially select you for his research project?”

Wait a minute.