I Was Mistaken for a Saint in a Dark Fantasy

In my previous life, my dream had been to become a professor.

Not that I’d had any grand aspiration for teaching students or anything like that.

It was simply that surgery offered nothing once you left the hospital, so a professorship had been the natural career target.

And then, after all the suffering I’d endured to get there, I’d developed a slight obsession with the title itself—a kind of compensatory fixation.

’To think I’d accomplish it in my next life.’

Of course, the professorship I’d been aiming for had nothing to do with forensic medicine or occupational and environmental medicine.

But a professorship is a professorship.

Oh well. Moving on.

That’s enough tangential musing.”That not a single one of you has left—I’m truly pleased. In that case, I’ll do my utmost to ensure you don’t feel your time has been wasted.”

I swept my gaze across the students.

Everyone looked tense, save for a few.

Charlotte, the other scholarship students, and a handful who had come from magic towers were the only ones sitting at ease.

The signed written pledges from moments ago were likely the cause.

’As expected.’

It was exactly what I’d anticipated.

Ever since Teacher had erased the Magic Tower of the 13th Month, black magic had been treated as a taboo subject without exception.

As time passed and the people who truly understood its history dwindled, black magic had come to be regarded much like a controlled substance—something neither to be learned nor approached.

But.

’Future heroes can’t afford that attitude.’

The subjugation of black magicians would be added to the heroes’ mission list before long.

Naturally, you can’t fight an enemy you don’t understand.

So the first thing that needed correcting was this reflexive aversion to black magic.

”Do you know why black magic is considered taboo?”

No one answered.

I’d expected as much.

I continued without missing a beat.

Snap.

I clicked my fingers, and diagrams began to draw themselves across the chalkboard.

Two basic spells every wizard learned: Transcription Magic and Projection Magic.

The ability to automatically write down or render whatever one imagined, and the ability to cast an image from a photograph onto another surface.

With these two at hand, producing papers and books was no great feat.

And needless to say, running a lecture was perfectly manageable as well.

”Anyone in this room will already know something of the circumstances that led to black magic being deemed taboo. I’ll give a brief overview regardless.”

You can’t talk about the birth of magic without talking about Teacher.

Roughly a thousand years ago, there was no such thing as magic as an academic discipline in this world.

Before that, I was told, it was a chaotic age of unstructured incantations—hundreds of them, scattered and indistinct, with no way to make sense of any of it.

The one who ended that era was Teacher.

”A thousand years ago, Great Sage Louis Edelhardt classified the hundreds of incantations that permeated the world into thirteen categories, and formalized the rules common to each.”

Symbol, catalyst, chant, runic formula, magical power.

The foundational concepts of magic—established a millennium ago—have carried forward, unchanged, to this very day.

”At the time, the thirteenth category—what we now call black magic—was known by a different name: Life Magic.”

In those days, the status of Life Magic was not so different from the other twelve. It was simply one of many tools for protecting people from demonic beasts.

But as the years passed and the discipline of magic grew more sophisticated, problems arose.

”Over the long centuries that followed, countless new symbols, catalysts, chants, and runic formulas were developed. Methods of supplementing or recovering magical power were discovered as well. But in the course of that progress, Life Magic crossed a line.”

To start a fire, you need symbols and catalysts that are receptive to flame.

That’s why the fire-aligned schools spent their history searching for the optimal conditions for combustion.

The problem was that Life Magic, in its own pursuit of those conditions, crossed a line it could never come back from.

”At the time, the Magic Tower of the 13th Month took innocent people from countless territories, used them as catalysts, and built their magic on those foundations.”

The most efficient catalyst and symbol for casting magic on living things is, naturally, another living thing.

And so the Magic Tower of the 13th Month abducted untold numbers of people in secret to advance their craft.

They sacrificed human lives to experiment with curses on other humans.

They extracted human brains to test brainwashing on other humans.

They severed human limbs to turn other humans into chimeras.

And those are the tame examples.

When Teacher described to me the atrocities they had committed, I understood—viscerally—why he had decided to wipe them out.

”In the end, they had the dangerous idea of grafting the power of demonic beasts onto human beings—and the result was the first Demonkin.”

I mean, how could you just leave them to it?

We were already struggling to manage demonic beasts, and they’d gone ahead and added Demonkin as bonus content. For variety, apparently.

The result was that Teacher took one look at it all and dropped a meteor directly into the tower. After that, Life Magic was renamed black magic.

”In the aftermath, several taboos regarding black magic were added to the world’s laws.”

I wrote the taboos on the chalkboard.

1. During the research of black magic, the act of sacrificing human beings as catalysts is forbidden.

2. The act of harming human beings through black magic is forbidden.

3. The act of violating the Sun Cult Order’s doctrine through black magic is forbidden.

4. All research related to black magic must be reported in advance, and all research findings and content must be shared in full with the Magic Management Bureau.

5. Any act or assembly that seeks to revive the Magic Tower of the 13th Month is forbidden.

Those are the essentials.

”A common misconception involves, in particular, the research and use of black magic itself.”

Research and use of black magic are not, strictly speaking, taboo.

For that matter, the first research I ever undertook—alongside Teacher, the very one who destroyed the Black Magic Tower—was black magic research.

If that had been a taboo, Teacher would have dropped a meteor on my head.

”So long as one does not harm anyone in the learning or use of black magic, there is nothing that violates any of the taboos.”

In a sense, that’s simply common sense.

It’s already taboo to strike someone down with illness or death—but burning someone alive for no reason is equally taboo. It’s not forbidden because it’s black magic. That’s not the point.

It’s just that black magic, if activated without medical knowledge, can kill a person in an instant.

The minor inconvenience is simply that, until me, no one had managed to use it through harmless catalysts and in a constructive direction.

That’s why cases of activating black magic without violating taboos one through three were nearly unheard of.

But the act of activation itself is not taboo. That’s what I’m saying.

”Moving on—Taboo Four is where many wizards make mistakes, and it’s one that those of you in this course are also quite likely to commit.”

Taboo Four.

This is where a significant number of wizards trip up.

Wizards, as a rule, don’t share their research with others and keep their achievements close to the chest. Who would willingly spread knowledge that allows others to counter their spells?

The problem is that this habit leads many of them to violate Taboo Four without even realizing it.

Wizards dragged away for conducting research without filing advance notice.

Wizards dragged away for failing to report their research progress.

Wizards dragged away for failing to share their research findings.

Hear enough of those stories, and someone who doesn’t know the details would naturally assume that any black magic research leads to arrest.

And then there is the momentous Taboo Five.

”Taboo Five is less about black magic itself, and more about the Magic Tower of the 13th Month specifically.”

Think of it roughly as an isekai Nazi prohibition law.

No tattooing yourself with the Magic Tower of the 13th Month’s symbols.

No expressing nostalgia for the Magic Tower of the 13th Month.

No justifying the Magic Tower of the 13th Month.

That sort of thing.

”That said—everything conducted in the course of this class has already received imperial authorization. You need not worry that any of it will come into conflict with the taboos.”

The advance filings were completed before the course began.

A handful of sessions were rejected outright.

But the majority received approval.

”That concludes the brief history of black magic. You may set your concerns aside and focus on the course.”

*

The short orientation was over.

Time for the lecture proper.

”Within this lecture hall, you must become people capable of reading the faint traces left by black sorcerers, tracking them down, and—when the opportunity presents itself—severing their work at the source. With that in mind, I’ll begin with a simple test to assess your powers of observation.”

I gave Presia a nod.

She produced a bowl heaped with powder and set it down in front of me.

”I’d like you to dip your finger into this powder, taste it, and try to identify what it is.”

Dip.

I pressed a finger into the powder, then brought it to my tongue.

I let a slight grimace cross my face—a hint to the students that the powder was not particularly pleasant.

”Go ahead. Take a look.”

The bowl made its way down the rows, past a sea of students eager to try.

One by one, they dipped a finger in and offered their guesses.

Flour, mugwort powder, green tea powder, Quinine.

Someone even suggested Viagra.

But none of them landed on the answer I was looking for.

Last came Charlotte.

Dip.

”Mm. I’m afraid I can’t say, Professor.”

”Good.”

Once the bowl was returned to me, I dipped my finger into the powder again—and went through the motions of tasting it.

Then I addressed the hall.

”Some of you with sharp powers of observation may have noticed my intent in giving you this test. Isn’t that right, Miss Charlotte?”

Murmur, murmur.

”Those who were watching me closely may have caught it—the finger I used to dip into the powder was my middle finger, but the finger I brought to my tongue was my index finger.”

I had adjusted the angle of my hand partway through to make it harder to notice.

”I don’t mean this as an insult to any of you, and it certainly wasn’t meant as a prank. What this demonstrates is the fundamental nature of black magic.”

The fundamental nature of black magic is deception.

Evolved to misdirect its targets as thoroughly as possible, this school of magic specializes in dealing fatal harm from the smallest lapse in attention.

”A black sorcerer might do exactly this—claim to be a victim themselves and slip off the list of suspects.”

Take a festival, for instance, where a large number of people consume a poisonous substance and die or come close to it.

The black sorcerer would do precisely what I just did—claim they had eaten the same food.

And then walk calmly away from the scene.

Exactly like the little finger trick I just demonstrated.

”That said, you can’t simply suspect every victim indiscriminately. So what I’ll teach you is how to identify the people switching their fingers when no one’s looking.”

A title appeared on the chalkboard.

”A great many dyes currently circulating on the market contain various medicines and poisonous substances. Humanity has yet to recognize the danger.”

One of the tasks I find myself doing most frequently these days is examining the dyes in common circulation.

Perhaps it’s because this world’s history diverged from my previous life’s.

The names attached to each dye were different from what I knew, and I still hadn’t fully catalogued which ones corresponded to which poisonous substances or medicines from my past life.

Tsk.

The world’s first antibiotic was hiding somewhere among those dyes.

I knew it was a red dye—that much I was certain of—but whether it had even been developed in this world yet was something I still hadn’t been able to confirm.

”Of the substances I’ll be covering in this course, the one we’ll address first is the poisonous substance most favored by black sorcerers.”

Odorless. Historically confused with mercury in certain eras.

The most widely used poison in recorded history.

The name it earned as a result: Inheritance Powder.

In this world, it was still regarded with something like casual dismissal—just don’t eat it and you’ll be fine.

”The powder you all just tasted is the same color as this substance. On the market, it goes by the name Rumpelt Green Dye.”

Several noble-born students went pale at that.

Understandably so.

It was one of the most commonly used poisons in the behind-the-scenes struggles of the nobility.

”Black sorcerers prize this substance above all others as a catalyst. It makes for an ideal subject to open our first session.”

I wrote the name of the compound on the chalkboard.

Arsenic.

”Today’s lesson will cover arsenic and the other poisonous substances hidden in commercially available dyes that black sorcerers tend to favor.”

Before I had even finished speaking, several students shoved their fingers toward their uvulas.

...No—I said the green powder was arsenic, not the powder you actually tasted.

***

From that point on, Yulian’s lecture was one shock after another.

Even students who had believed arsenic was only fatal when ingested had no idea it could disperse through the air.

”Dyeing curtains or furniture with arsenic is even more dangerous.”

The space itself—the very room they inhabited—would take on a symbolism particularly amenable to black magic.

With grim irony, the place a person considered safest—their own home—could be transformed into the location most vulnerable to black sorcery.

”The reason arsenic is so insidious is that even without a single lethal-dose exposure, prolonged exposure over time causes diseases that divine magic cannot cure.”

Arsenic was a classic carcinogen.

And in this world, cancer fell under the classification of Demon Disease.

Which meant the chronic effects of arsenic had gone entirely undocumented.

Because cancer had been lumped together under the label of Demon Disease, no one had ever discovered that arsenic could be the cause.

Yulian, of course, did not explain this in detail.

There was no need to introduce additional confusion while the work of categorizing Demon Disease was still unfinished.

”Black sorcerers don’t carry arsenic themselves. They visit your estate, identify the dyes applied there, and use those as their catalyst to lay a curse. The stage is already set by the target themselves.”

The target does all the groundwork.

All the black sorcerer needs to prepare is the runic formula.

Yulian set about dismantling that structure.

”Now I’ll explain the symptoms that manifest when someone is cursed through such dyes as a catalyst, and the method of tracking black sorcerers through a dye’s distribution network.”

Mees’ Lines.

A common marker of chronic arsenic poisoning.

A white band inscribed at the base of the nail as it grows—enough to raise suspicion of arsenic exposure.

Beyond that, the class covered a considerable number of other dyes over the course of the session.

Lead in cosmetics.

Mercury in lipstick and sealing wax.

Chromium in candles and fabric.

Antimony, commonly found in black-colored materials.

With each new dye he introduced, more students went pale.

Some began removing their makeup then and there.

And as that eventful session was drawing to a close—

”Young Master Russell.”

Yulian, who had just finished the lecture, called out to one particular student.

Heedless of the stares from the rest of the class, he addressed the young man directly.

”You seemed particularly engaged by today’s lesson.”

”Ah... yes... I was listening and started to wonder whether my father might have recently fallen victim to a black sorcerer...”

”I believe I may be able to help you. Would it be possible to speak privately after class today?”

The third son of the Count Russell Family looked faintly uncomfortable, but nodded after a moment.

From the front row, Jenny—who had been watching the exchange—leaned over to whisper to Charlotte.

”Do you think this is about an apology? For embarrassing him last week?”

”...I wouldn’t know.”

Charlotte rose from her seat with an air of complete indifference.

And murmured, almost to herself:

”Something tells me a new incident is about to unfold.”

”What?”

Whether that meant anything or not, Charlotte simply left the lecture hall with Jenny at her side.

And a few days later—

a piece of news shook the Academy to its foundations.

[BREAKING: Eldest and Second Son of Count Russell Family Arrested—Alleged to Have Conspired with a Black Sorcerer to Poison the Family Head.]

People were desperate to know the full story behind the curtain of the Count’s family.

But the doors of the Russell household remained firmly shut, and no answers came.

The students were no less consumed by curiosity.

Then, a few days after that—

the third son of the Count Russell Family returned to the Academy after a brief visit home,

and the students finally heard the full account directly from the Count’s sole remaining heir.

”What actually happened, Young Master Russell?”

”W-well... the thing is, the Professor...”

According to the third son, the full story of the incident was as follows.

During the Black Magic Defense Arts lecture—

Yulian had noticed an unusually high number of Mees’ Lines on the third son’s fingernails.

He had spotted them in the moment the young man dipped his finger into the powder.

It also happened to occur to Yulian that this was the student whose fiancée had publicly humiliated him.

And so he invited Young Master Russell to dinner.

— ”There is a possibility your family members may be in danger, Mr. Russell. I’ll write you some letters—please send them on to your family.”

After dinner, the third son followed the professor’s advice and simply sent his family letters on the dangers of arsenic.

A few days after that—

the eldest and second son poisoned each other.

The reason was singular.

— ”If I don’t kill him first, he’ll kill me.”

Both brothers had already been cursing their father using arsenic as a catalyst. The moment the letters arrived, each immediately suspected the other of planning to poison him in turn.

The result: they laid upon each other’s rooms the same curse they had used on their father, and destroyed each other in a mutual downfall—

while the family head, who had separately received a letter from Yulian containing the method of lifting the curse, survived.

That was the full story.

”The P-Professor just said... if he sent three different letters to three different people, it would all work out...”

Two letters.

Two letters had sown the poison of suspicion into both brothers, and by that poison—killed them both and saved the father.

The result was that the third son, who had never stood a chance at succession, became by sheer fortune the Count family’s last remaining heir.

”I... I had no idea when the Professor said my family might be in danger that he meant it... like that...”

Young Master Russell harbored no resentment toward Yulian.

These were men blinded by ambition for a title—men who had plotted to poison not only their father, but their own family, and even the third son himself.

That they had turned on each other was nothing more than just retribution.

And yet.

The thought that two letters, written at a desk, had upended the entire succession structure of a count’s family—that was simply terrifying.

”Surely... that wasn’t black magic, was it? The letters?”

”...”

Young Master Russell and his friends knew, rationally, that it couldn’t have been.

If it had been, the investigative authorities would have arrested Yulian already.

But perhaps—just perhaps—if it was Yulian.

A professor who had given that kind of lecture on the very first day.

Perhaps he could have managed it without being caught.

A few days after that—

dark rumors about Professor Yulian began to spread through the Academy.