- 4 - Newly Restored Text and Magical Waveform 1
The characters projected onto the shallow water tray were a jumble—letters drawn from various nations' scripts, arranged with no apparent meaning, like a scrambled incantation whose original form had been long lost.
In this institute, however, such trays—enchanted instruments designed for translation—converted ancient script into the closest corresponding modern characters they could display. Even so, what emerged was usually far from coherent.
Nonsensical at first glance, these strings of symbols nonetheless tended to contain underlying patterns.
The problem lay in interpretation: many nations that once used these languages no longer existed.
The meanings of certain characters had shifted dramatically since before the Great War. What once conveyed clear intention now bordered on the unknowable.
And this time, the source of the text was particularly complex—a fragment recovered from a fallen magical empire.
Compared to local relics, it bore none of the comforting consistency researchers had come to expect.
Simply put, the variety of magical artifacts retrieved was overwhelming, and their reconstructed inscriptions were rarely aligned in form or logic.
Even beyond the texts that had been formally published, several other documents had already been reconstructed in secret.
Some of them included phrases that, even today, carried dangerous connotations—words that could still activate dormant forces.
These had not been fully decrypted and were thus confined to a classified archive known only to a select few.
Officially, these documents did not "exist."
As with most magical artifacts, this one had displayed an introductory message upon activation—a common security feature.
Yet even this initial text had come through corrupted, partially garbled, the glyphs twisted into unreadable forms. With key portions missing, they had no way of predicting what the object might do.
That made the artifact volatile—perhaps even dangerous. Extreme caution was required.
In a strange way, it would almost be preferable if none of the assistants succeeded in deciphering their texts.
Let them fail—better that, than to accidentally awaken something that would make one's insides twist with dread. The thought alone was enough to make Ren's stomach churn.
"Ren. Hey, Ren—are you even listening?"
Oliver's voice broke through the fog of thought, pulling Ren back to the present.
"Ah—my apologies. My mind had... wandered."
"I figured.
They're asking you to run the restored passage through the verification scanner before the end of the day.
Think you're up for it?" Oliver asked, wearing a familiar look of half-concern, half-exasperation. Ren sighed inwardly.
Days like this—ever since the foreign assistants had arrived—always ended in the same kind of mental exhaustion.
He glanced down at his hands, quietly checking the remaining reserves of his magic.
Though he seldom acknowledged it aloud, he bore the official title of the former King's younger son's heir.
This role came with certain expectations—and burdens. Each time he met with those girls, he kept a barrier active—jewelry inscribed with protective runes, continuously fueled with his own magic.
The drain wasn't only emotional; it was literal, physical.
He began calculating the time and energy it would take to complete the scans when he realized Oliver had vanished.
Startled by how long he must've zoned out, he sat up straighter—only to find Oliver returning with a tray stacked high with food: a mountain of chili tomato-braised meat, a variety of colorful salads, and a small keg of beer.
"Just stay in the observation suite tonight," Oliver said as he set the dishes down.
"Run the scan first thing in the morning—by then, your mana and brain will have recovered."
He was already filling a plate for himself before Ren could respond.
Gratefulness welled up.
"Thanks, Oliver. I'll take you up on that."
Technically, Ren lived less than ten minutes from the lab.
But transporting the water tray outside the premises was prohibited, and if he were going to resume the work once his strength returned—be it morning or midnight—staying here made the most sense.
Some might find it strange that a royal would live this way, but Ren had never known anything else.
His grandfather—the late King's brother—had spent most of his life chasing ancient relics around the world.
His father still did. And his mother? A researcher here, working in the same corridors as Ren himself.
The so-called "prince"—the subject of much speculation among the foreign assistants—was in truth Ren's cousin, only a few years younger.
But five years meant much more during adolescence than it did later, and they'd grown up apart.
The cousin lived not in a palace but in government housing adjacent to the institute. They were never particularly close.
Ironically, the prince's idea of an ideal couple was Ren's own parents.
Once, he had spoken of it with a sincerity that made Ren feel something close to pity for his cousin's unseen fiancée.
After all, Ren's parents saw each other only a few times a year—and when they did, they spoke exclusively of magical devices and the secrets of the Lake of Wisdom.
Yes, it was a strange life.
But it was the only one Ren knew.
