At present, Raban’s ultimate goal in Hikarius was “to gather enough mana and escape home.”
In truth, the “home” part was negotiable. “To a safe dimension” would do. A magician, by nature, could do anything as long as he had enough mana.
But in this world, the shadow-mascot government and their minions-slash-magic-wands, the magical girls, ruled the world of the night with an iron fist, making it difficult to openly and systematically scrape together mana.
If magic had not been known in Hikarius, and if there had been no suspicious forces like the mascots, Raban would have immediately drawn up a city-scale magic circle, captured mana with it, gone into hibernation for a month or two, and then left this world behind.
The amount he would consume for dimensional travel was admittedly a bit much for an individual, but on the scale of an entire world, that level of consumption fell well within the margin of error.
A perfect plan: live as if dead, then vanish without anyone ever remembering him!
…But since putting that into practice in this world was impossible, Raban had changed course. He would repeatedly counsel friends who seemed full of negative thoughts, and extract those thoughts from them.
And, of course, there were obstacles to the plan.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Raban flicked his ballpoint pen for no real reason. He was staring at the scraps of paper he had scribbled on in order to organize his thoughts.
Of course, “scribbled” was putting it nicely; to anyone else, they were clusters of shapes worse than a three-year-old’s doodles. He glanced at the students sitting in the counseling room, chatting with their friends, shook his head once, and thought again of the obstacles.
The shadow-mascot government?
That was less an obstacle and more an instant-death event. He had only experienced direct combat with a magical girl once, but he had seen those girls tussle with monsters quite a lot.
“They really use mana like it’s infinite.”
At first, he had not understood why the magical girls had used mana so recklessly when fighting the Four Heavenly Kings of the Ivory Tower. Monsters attacked almost every day; even during quieter periods, they struck once a week.
In that sort of real combat environment, he had assumed their mana control could only improve…
But they had no need to control their mana. What else was necessary before overwhelming output?
It was obvious that the great spirit behind the mascots was pouring mana into the magical girls.
Raban shook his head. His competitors right now were not the magical girls.
“The Ivory Tower.”
There were three materials that went into the monsters created by the Ivory Tower. Mana. The Four Heavenly Kings supplied that.
Something that awakened negative thoughts into a monster. A strange substance the Ivory Tower called a “seed.” It seemed the Four Heavenly Kings of the Ivory Tower carried these around and sowed them.
And negative thoughts, which granted the monster a concrete form and abilities.
Those had to be extracted from other people.
“How dare they try to take my daily energy source!”
If one were to examine the facts, it was Raban who had stolen the Ivory Tower’s energy source, but Raban was a black magician who had already sold his conscience beyond the dimensional wall. The facts did not matter.
In other words, Raban’s current business competitor was the Ivory Tower.
“They don’t seem to have made any monsters for the past few days since I was discovered…”
This was a temporary shock. If he continued to remain hidden, the Ivory Tower would soon turn its gaze back toward battle with the magical girls.
Naturally, whenever they were bored, they would make monsters.
He had no idea what connection there was between the production of monsters and the resurrection of that man named Avon, but he could not stand by and watch the Ivory Tower bastards waste negative thoughts to make monsters.
Then there was only one thing to do.
“Draw just the right amount of aggro!”
The reason the Ivory Tower and the magical girls had entered a sort of ceasefire was because his appearance had brought about a state of tension.
If he scattered around appropriately weak things like that hand-tree from last time, he ought to be able to maintain that tension. In Raban’s mind, the designs of the familiars he had created back when he had gone around shouting, “I am legion!” unfolded.
“Sir!”
What broke that train of thought was the lively voice of a student.
The black magician who, until just a moment ago, had been confidently plotting against two evil organizations—the Mascot Empire and the Ivory Tower—instantly became a frail middle-aged man.
“I’m not a teacher. What is it?”
“Counseling!”
“No, seriously, I don’t understand why all of you keep trying to get counseling from me. Kids. You’re explaining things properly, right? That I don’t have any certifications or anything?”
Originally, there had only been one peer counselor waiting in the counseling room, but recently there were at least two. It was thanks to the sudden increase in students visiting the counseling room.
“Of course we tell them. But what can we do? They say they want to see an adult rather than the same faces they always see, like us.”
“Why me, of all… No. Normally, rumors don’t even spread about the temporary person in charge of a place like this. Even if the teacher changes completely, most people don’t care, do they?”
“That started increasing after the Chief Class Rep got counseling last time.”
“Chief Class Rep? What’s that? That’s a position?”
Do the class presidents fight each other to decide the strongest class president? A frivolous thought passed through Raban’s mind. The student counselor smiled and shook their head.
“It’s not like our school is from some manga where rankings are decided by fighting. No, there isn’t. It’s just Shune’s nickname. She’s good at sticking her nose into things everywhere, no matter what class. She’ll probably be the next student council president, you know?”
Ah. That student lackey of the Mascot Empire. Raban gritted his teeth. Truly, the mascots’ methods were fearsome.
“They’re going to bury me in work so I can’t focus on my real job…?”
It was even more cunning in that they did not move personally, but moved the students instead.
“Planet-scale historical manipulation and brainwashing, a monopoly on mana, and even controlling the entire city with a barrier.”
Grumbling inwardly that this was basically a magical dystopia, Raban rose from his seat.
Still, what could he do? Big Mascot was watching him, so on the surface, he had to pretend to go along with it. He could do the rest after getting off work.
“Ah, overtime.”
It was a sorrowful thing.
***
“Sir, why is your right hand so white? What cosmetics do you use?”
“I don’t like going outside, so it gets less ultraviolet light. And I’m not a teacher.”
“Tell us about your first love, sir!”
“It was money. Leave.”
“Aww, don’t be like that!”
“Fine. Actually, it was even more money.”
“Are you really going to be like this?”
“…Student.”
Raban’s expression hardened for a moment, then he spoke with a serious face.
“In truth, the counseling room being this crowded with students is not a good thing in itself.”
He continued his explanation in a quiet tone. Counseling in a place like this often involved revealing wounds within one’s heart, and so the more people there were nearby, the greater a burden it became.
One-on-one counseling in a quiet, orderly, comfortable environment was ideal for opening up.
“Right now, we are at least maintaining appearances by using partitions and the inner room of the counseling office, but this is not an exemplary situation. Students who are truly desperate for someone to listen to their story will feel that a crowd like this is like a wall.”
After all, people are wounded most by other people, and so people are the most frightening beings of all.
“So I ask you. Please help us provide the necessary help to the children who need it.”
“…Wow. I’ve never seen an adult use formal speech for this long before.”
“You’ll see it a lot during election season.”
“Hehe, since you’re being so sincere, sir. Okay, I will.”
Yes. Raban cheered inwardly. He had eliminated yet another troublesome factor!
“Then when do we get to see you, sir?”
“Sigh. If you’re going to come, come during break.”
“Okay. I’ll come tomorrow!”
Watching the student run off with a cheerful smile and a wave, Raban sighed.
“I seriously don’t understand what they like so much that they keep flocking to the counseling room.”
“Your reactions.”
It was a familiar voice. Raban turned his head, trying hard not to show that he was pleased.
***
“My reactions?”
“Your reactions, mister. It’s fun how you respond whenever we throw things at you.”
“That’s cruel of you.”
I-hyeon, who had run in with her bobbed hair fluttering, rummaged through various parts of the desk. Raban opened his mouth with a sigh.
“Far left of the book organizer on my desk.”
“Huh, what? How did you know?”
I-hyeon, having found her notebook, asked back in surprise. Raban shrugged.
“Who do you think closes the counseling room, cleans up, and leaves? Hurry up and take it.”
“Because I was the one who hid it.”
It was a trick he had tried after watching Na I-hyeon study by herself in the counseling room after school for several days. Distract her with a simple conversation and make her forget to take her notebook.
It was a method that would arouse suspicion if used too often, but for raising a tiny bit of inner intimacy, there was nothing better than these small acts of help.
“If the demon I contracted with had seen this, he’d probably get angry and ask why a black magician was being so petty.”
But a good black magician was not swayed by unfair judgments from outside. Raban maintained his poker face.
“Thanks! I’ll bring you triangle kimbap or something next time!”
***
In the counseling room after I-hyeon left, Raban continued doodling on a blank sheet of paper—though from his own perspective he was writing a highly encrypted, secret plan, to anyone else it was nothing but doodles—then looked at the clock.
“Right. Ten minutes until lunch break ends. Everyone go back to class, go on.”
The students chattered energetically and waved their hands. As they glanced back on their way out—
They saw “Sir” looking down at his doodles, as if he found them incredibly interesting.
The sunlight creeping in past the blinds soaked Sir’s hair. Under the light, the subtle blue hidden amid the inky black stood out. A decadent impression, paired with oblivious words and actions that were the complete opposite. No matter how many times they saw him, they never tired of it.
“Sir, I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know why everyone flocks here.”
“But he’s cute, isn’t he?”
“Heheh.”
***
Raban continued grumbling, then suddenly rubbed his hand.
“Why is it so white, huh.”
It was a question one of the students who had entered the counseling room had tossed out without much thought. But of course Raban’s right hand was pale white, like freshly grown new flesh.
“Because I really do cut it off every night and regenerate it anew.”
He had secured enough hands to deploy them soon.