- 4 - Newly Restored Text and Magical Waveform 3
“That was beyond a nightmare. What the hell was that?”
The room was completely dark.
No lights were on, and judging by the silence, it was still far from dawn.
Ren sat up in bed, slowly realizing—he was home. The dream, or whatever it had been, wasn’t real.
Not him.
Relief gave way to a tremor.
He covered his face with both hands, trying to steady his breath.
Time passed.
The shaking in his chest settled, but his mind remained blurred.
The vivid emotions, the physical pain, the overwhelming flood of images—whatever that dream had been, it left him numb.
He tried to process it, but the thoughts circled without resolution.
Sleep, he knew, would not come again.
Resigned, he left the bedroom and made his way toward the workroom, deciding to run the basin through the analyzer.
It had been handed to him yesterday, after all.
The room was quiet.
In the center stood a large basin embedded with magical circuits, each crafted for a specific purpose.
The basin accepted mana, and once it was filled, the analysis process would begin.
This time, the request was different.
The magic circle inscribed onto the basin was sealed—accessible only to those with royal lineage.
A protective measure, designed to prevent unauthorized access. A hedge against espionage.
His job was to cross-reference what had already been deciphered from the ancient texts, identify its content, and assign the appropriate personnel for further decoding.
If the material posed no risk, it could be volunteered for freely.
But if it was sensitive—or completely unknown—then a different system applied: a small team, handpicked and bound by sacred oath, loyal to the royal family and prohibited from speaking of their work without permission. His mother led that team.
Some called the oath excessive—unfit for scholarly work.
But after the recent breach, no one dared to argue.
That event had proven the necessity of absolute discretion.
The deputy director, who had never been formally involved in classified research, had only a provisional contract.
It was under his watch that the leak occurred, triggering the current restrictions.
Now, every researcher, regardless of rank or role, was required to swear the sacred oath.
But secrecy wasn’t the only issue.
The psychological toll of translation could be devastating.
There were researchers who had suffered emotional breakdowns from what they’d uncovered—some had taken leave, others were reassigned.
Ren was now forced to approach each assignment with extreme caution.
And because more and more younger researchers—hungry for prestige and advancement—were pushing for access to high-level work, the burden on him continued to grow.
Another two or three people in my position would make all the difference, he thought, knowing full well that wasn’t likely.
Unless the queen gave birth to another prince, or the foreign-obsessed princess changed her mind and aimed for the throne, or his younger cousin gave up on being a princess and chose the path of a scholar… well, there weren’t many options.
He let out a quiet sigh.
Still, he prayed that somewhere out there, a capable eccentric—someone with a solid temperament and a willingness to stake their life on their research—would appear.
As that hope flickered, he placed the basin onto the platform, set the parameters, and began to channel his mana into the embedded circuit.
