Research Life of a New Professor at Magic University

“Luckily. The results from the last experiment turned out well.”

On Monday morning, just before heading to class, I heard Arien’s experiment results.
Arien seemed exhausted, perhaps from creating lecture materials and writing reports.
Maybe the elf had never lived so busy before.

Indeed, no matter how difficult a problem seems, there’s always a solution!
Once again, I admired Professor Sonten’s insight.

Despite her face looking almost lifeless, Arien’s voice and manner were full of energy.
It was understandable. After all, she got the desired results from the last ingredient that seemed least likely.

“But why absorption grass? What’s the reason for this? Is it important for stability to mix water and herbs well during preparation? Or could it be a special interaction with the spirits?”

“Do you think so? Is it related to the spirits?”

“It’s possible. Is this characteristic unique to absorption grass, or are all mixed auxiliary herbs the same?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps it only works for stamina potions. The possibility of varying effects depending on different ingredients is also high.”

“I… don’t know…”

The vigor in Arien’s voice gradually faded. She didn’t even hide her fatigue.
As a guiding professor, I gave comments enthusiastically, yet I got increasingly dry responses?
Even if one has a bad attitude, there should be limits!

“I’m suggesting you think about it. Aren’t you doing research?”

“Professor, can we do this next time? I’m too tired today, please!”

“Why so soon? It’s only been a week since the semester started.”

“I’ve only slept ten hours since last Friday. No, isn’t it 36,000 seconds, according to your ‘watch?'”

Suddenly, Arien poured out her words like a rap.
It feels like I’m being falsely accused of something.
I didn’t even ask her to come out on the weekend, but I’m being treated like this.

It’s unfair, but ultimately, I had to take a step back.
It’s the first time, so I need time to adapt.
And after hearing yesterday’s conversation, I feel a bit sorry for joking about religion.

“Okay, well done. Let’s talk more about it later. Go and rest for a bit now and return in the afternoon.”

“Yes, thank you for understanding. Take care, Professor.”

Arien seemed too tired today, so she decided not to attend class.
She can’t sleep properly, and if she wants to prepare for her afternoon class, she won’t have time to rest.
I gladly accepted her decision since Arien didn’t need to attend theory classes anyway.

Today marks the first time I’ll be teaching without Arien.

***

Professor Atwell always enters the classroom almost precisely on time and leaves just before the bell rings.
It was fascinating for the students to see how he managed to be so precise.
They checked their memories to see if he was late, but he never was.

This lecture hall isn’t in a position where you can see the clock tower well.
It’s impressive enough that he comes in precisely before it starts, but how does he know when to leave?
Even if you open any window in the classroom, you can’t see the clock tower.

“Did you check the clock tower?”

“Yeah, at 10. Since this is a thirty-minute lecture, it’ll be exactly on the hour when it ends.”

Among the students, various hypotheses about “Atwell’s time management” were discussed.

Rumors abound about him, the master of arcane arts, being able to tell time with a spell he personally crafted.
Conspiracy theories suggest he has clairvoyant abilities to see the clock tower from afar.
Given his regular lifestyle, some speculated that it’s just a consequence of disciplined living, a theory Arien might have scoffed at had she heard it.
There’s even wild speculation that he calculates the angle and length of shadows cast by the sun to make perfect time calculations from anywhere.

“Shall we bet on him being right again today?”

“I reckon he’ll miss it today.”

“Did you not hear what happened to the clock tower?”

Among the various mystical speculations, the most realistic yet unbelievable hypothesis was ‘a clock’.
The small item he often carries around and checks frequently is a portable clock.
If he can carry the clock tower with him and adjust the time to the minute, it’s not strange for him to arrive on the dot without allowing for any margin.

“Why?”

“I asked some of the staff yesterday, and they said they had to adjust the clock this morning.”

“What kind of adjustment?”

“The clock tower broke down briefly over the weekend, so the time was way off. Wouldn’t the professor check and adjust to the clock tower? But does he really do it every morning?”

Students tend to come to class with some time to spare.
Professors usually arrive early and wait for the bell to ring.
Of course, some professors don’t care whether they’re late or not.

“But seriously, is it really a clock? Is Atwell that rich?”

“Wouldn’t someone like him have money? He’s going crazy with donations across the continent.”

“But he rejected them all.”

“Did he really reject all of them? I don’t think so. Even if he did, it doesn’t matter. With his abilities, he could earn as much as he wants.”

“That’s true, but he only got his PhD not long ago. Are abilities all it takes? You need time. He didn’t have time to amass wealth.”

“Anyway, let’s see. I bet he’s late today. Do you want to wager something on it?”

Making a clock small enough to carry in one’s pocket requires advanced technology and complex magical enchantments.
Even the clock tower, the only one in the university, requires significant manpower to maintain and operate.
Despite this, it needs regular checks and adjustments due to malfunctions, glitches, and inherent errors.

Even such a massive clock has its flaws.

This is also why the “Atwell Clock Theory” isn’t popular. A small clock that fits in your hand can’t be as precise as the clock tower. No matter how often you adjust it, such a clock can’t accurately tell time.

As if to corroborate this statement, Atwell didn’t enter until just before the last grains of sand fell in the hourglass.

“See? He’s running late. Hand over five silver coins.”

“Wait a moment. There’s still time.”

And just as the last few grains of sand were about to fall,

The classroom door creaked open.

The students who made the bet couldn’t help but be silent, regardless of the outcome.
A young man in his early twenties hurriedly entered through the door, breathing heavily, as if he knew that being even a minute late would mean trouble.

“Not late. Let’s begin the lecture.”

Looking at the round object in his hand and hearing his words, the students became even more confused.
There were too many reasons why it couldn’t be a clock.
Though it seemed like he checked the time with some object, its identity remained a mystery.

He still arrived at the exact time today.

However, today, Atwell’s lecture began a little differently than usual.

Once again, Atwell entered the classroom just before the designated class time, which wasn’t unusual. He seemed more rushed and tired than usual, but he always had a habit of hurrying at the last moment.

What was different about him today?

The notable difference was the absence of the elven assistant who usually followed him like a shadow.
In truth, there wasn’t much for the assistant to do during theory classes, so their absence wasn’t surprising.
Watching Arien, who was busy taking notes and concentrating on the class, it was hard to tell whether she was an assistant or a student.

Nevertheless, many students felt a sense of disappointment.

“It’s nice to see you all again. Today, we’ll learn about individual components one by one. Typically, we start with materials and then move on to tools, but tools will also be mentioned intermittently.”

He paused briefly, his breath shorter than usual.

“After all, they’re inseparable. It’s only natural that discussions about magical tools come up when explaining the properties of magical materials.”

Atwell began the class without mentioning Arien, the assistant.
Many students were curious about what had happened, but none dared to ask outright.

It was likely to attract unwanted attention.

Asking an unrelated question during class might even draw Atwell’s attention.
It wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

Though it might also apply to other professors, it seemed even more so with Atwell.

“Professor, I have a question!”

A student asking a question in this situation might either not mind attracting the professor’s attention or even seek it.
In Atwell’s eyes, Stella Lacton seemed to be the latter.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Where did that pretty assistant sister of ours go? Our senior!”

Atwell was about to say, “Please refrain from asking questions unrelated to the class,” but he swallowed those words.
It was difficult to claim that the assistant’s whereabouts were unrelated to the class.

Anyway, there was nothing to hide.

“Arien, the assistant, won’t join us for today’s class. No need to worry; it won’t affect the lesson.”

Some students didn’t initially understand whom he was referring to.
Atwell had simply referred to her as “Arien” during the first class introduction.
However, given the clear association between her full name and the nickname, everyone understood immediately.

‘I assumed her nickname was her real name, too. That’s why I introduced her to the students that way.’

It wasn’t until recently that Atwell realized he had mistaken the nickname for her real name. Seeing the students’ expressions reminded him of that fact.

“I didn’t even know her name despite it being on her application and mentioned during our first meeting.”

Realizing this fact, Atwell felt a pang of guilt for introducing the assistant to the students so casually.
It was like introducing a neighborhood friend to the students, using the nickname they were comfortable with.

“Yes. Let me clarify again. The name of the class assistant is Arienael.”

In Atwell’s view, the assistant should be able to control the students.
Yet, some ignorant students were addressing her informally as “senior.”

Atwell thought this situation was problematic.
It would be better to introduce her today properly and help establish proper conduct.

“While it’s good for students to feel comfortable with the assistant, she is not your friend but my assistant. So, please refrain from being too informal with her.”

Roger Atwell was not someone who deeply pondered how his audience would interpret his words.
As a result, his well-meaning intentions often led to misunderstandings.
This precious skill significantly contributed to the decline of his reputation.

“Please be mindful, especially the male students. It’s not pleasant for me when you direct more attention to the assistant than to me during class. Please focus.”

Stella listened with a pleased smile, propping her chin with both hands.
Atwell frowned briefly as he noticed Stella Lacton’s eyes sparkling more and more.

‘What is she thinking?’

“As an educator and her colleague, it’s even more important. Even from my perspective, how much attention you’re giving her seems burdensome, so please be careful from now on. This is a matter of courtesy.”

However, the students interpreted Atwell’s expression in a slightly different way.
Even up to this point, there was already enough gossip material.
Yet, Atwell felt compelled to add more.

“Oh, and please refrain from discussing today’s incident with the assistant. It’s a bit embarrassing, you see. It’s my mistake from the start, so there’s no need to make it any more awkward.”

With that, Atwell began the class with his usual expression and tone.

“Well then, let’s begin the class.”

That day, the students’ attention was shallow, and it wasn’t just because of the clock issue.