SMMA 96

Chapter 96

When a professor forgets of your existence, the wisest thing to do is remain utterly still.
The Statue of the Forgotten Beast had long mastered that wisdom.

Still, boredom was an affliction no creature could entirely avoid.

I’m grateful that you’ve come to visit.

“I heard that the great statue possesses… knowledge vital to this acade—uh, vital wisdom that could prove useful.”

Ihan had almost said escape, but changed the word at the last moment.
He had no guarantee the statue wouldn’t betray him.

Wisdom, you say? How flattering… Though perhaps not wisdom itself, I can certainly share what I know. If it’s within my ability, I might even offer some aid.

“Indeed!”

Ihan silently thanked boredom itself.
Had the statue not been plagued by it, it probably wouldn’t be offering him any help.

Of course, there are limits to what I can do. Don’t ask for something impossible—like saving a dragon, for instance.

“Could you perhaps make the Headmaster a kinder man?”

…What color dragon would you prefer? That might be easier.

“My apologies. A joke.”

Naturally, Ihan wasn’t foolish enough to make such a ridiculous request.
He had only one true goal.

The path to the stables in the spire, located on the upper levels of the main building.

“Do you know the location of the stables in the spire of the main hall?”

Three of them, in fact.

Ihan’s eyes flickered faintly — this was it, finally the information he’d been after.

“Then… could you tell me the way to the easiest one to reach?”

That won’t be difficult.

“!”

But first, you must defeat me!

“?!?”

The sudden shift in energy caught Ihan completely off guard.

He tightened his grip on his staff and stared tensely. But the statue didn’t lunge—instead, it placed a carved bronze chessboard between them.

Play me in a match!

“……”

Clearly, the poor creature really was desperate for entertainment.

*        *        *

Boredom is the deadliest of poisons.
Even a statue that had endured centuries under professors’ orders could not defy it forever.

The Forgotten Beast loved chess.

The best part of chess, it explained cheerfully, is that you can even play it alone.

Its tail and multiple heads twitched restlessly as it gestured toward the board.

To gauge his opponent, Ihan asked,
“Have you played chess with other freshmen before me?”

Indeed.

“And… did any of them ever win?”

Not once.

Ihan’s expression grew grave.

Tutanta couldn’t win even once?

He didn’t know Salko’s exact skill level, but for someone so persistent to lose every time—
that spoke volumes.

Meaning: the statue’s chess skills were extraordinary.

And it knows when to hold back, Ihan realized.

If the statue had been too superior, Salko would have stopped challenging it.
To keep someone attempting again and again required the ability to barely defeat them—
an advanced psychological game in itself.

Can I win at all…?

Ihan didn’t consider himself particularly skilled at chess.
But like most students trapped long term in research facilities, he’d participated in many meaningless little competitions.

Chess, inevitably, was the most popular.

He had never once lost against other students…
…but not once had he beaten the foreign professor next door, who delighted in crushing weaker players.

And this statue? Surely no worse than that professor.

Still, I only need to win once.

Whether through luck or distraction, if he played enough times, one victory might come.

Just one win… that’ll be enough.

One warning first, said the statue. If you lose, there is a penalty.

“…What kind of penalty?”

Its shadowed form suddenly exuded an oddly ominous aura.

If you lose, you must play again — one extra match, at no cost.

“…That’s the penalty?”

That was… unexpectedly tame.

Of course. If you lose again after that, then two more matches; lose again, three, and so forth.

At this point, it’d be easier to just let the professors assign you work, Ihan thought wryly as he reached for the white pawns.

*        *        *

The king tipped sideways — checkmate. The first game was over.

Ihan stared, astonished.

Tuntanta…!

You play marvelously, the statue said with admiration.

But Ihan only blinked.

Against all odds, he had won.

On the first try.

Now he started questioning Salko’s ability instead.
How could he lose repeatedly to such a lenient opponent?

Guess I worried for nothing.

Here, said the statue, conjuring a sheet of parchment, a map I made myself.

“Thank you.”

Ihan tucked the map safely into his coat pocket, then asked carefully,
“Would you like to play another round?”

Now that he’d seen the level of difficulty, there was no reason to refuse — he might extract more.

But the statue shook its head.

No, I am satisfied. That was truly a splendid match.

“……”

Thanks to you, I believe I can finally rest peacefully again. Farewell.

Ihan had no idea what part of the game had been “splendid,” but dared not question it.

Certainly not because he’d crushed the opponent.

“I… see. Good for you.”

Suppressing a sigh, Ihan stepped out of the corridor.

Salko was waiting, hammer and chisel in hand, softly carving a small figurine.

“You’ve returned.”

He wiped the dust from his palms before speaking again.
Though he didn’t like nobles, he respected personal pride — and he assumed Ihan’s defeat must’ve been humiliating.

“I’ll guide you back and accompany you next time. You won’t get through alone. When you wish to try again, say the word.”

“I won.”

“…??!?!!”

Salko’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

He simply could not believe what he was hearing.

That beast statue’s chess ability was terrifying — Salko had never once beaten it, despite being the Tutanta family’s best strategist.
He’d planned to return soon with Ihan to attempt again together.

But Ihan had… already won?

“Re… really?”

“Yes. It said it could finally take a good nap.”

Salko stared blankly.
Though he trusted Wardanaz’s word, this was beyond belief.

“Wardanaz… would you mind if I confirm it myself?”

“Go ahead.”

With Ihan’s permission, Salko hurried to repair the statue passage and slipped inside.

Moments later, he returned pale-faced, eyes distant — like he’d seen a ghost.

The statue really was… asleep.

“I see you got what you needed, then,” he managed weakly.

“I did. Thank you.”

Salko caught himself staring at Ihan with unintended admiration.
How absurd: him, a child of labor, respecting a noble-born mage.

He quickly cleared his throat to hide it.

“Let’s go back. I’ll guide the way.”

But as he turned, he missed the change in Ihan’s gaze — from cautious respect to something warmer.

A look much like the one he reserved for Nillia.

*        *        *

When Ihan finally returned to the lounge, he looked utterly drained.

As it turned out, Salko was a talker.

“When you move pawn to e4 and your opponent answers with e5, you thrust to f4 — the famous ‘Dwarven Gambit,’ a Tutanta hallmark.”
“If they take your pawn, your knight goes to f3. That’s my specialty, but—”
“Oh, last week’s match…”
“And those crazy elves! They open d4 instead of e4, then respond c4 to d5! Absolute lunatics!”

He had gone on about chess the entire way back.

Ihan wasn’t as passionate about the game as Salko evidently was, but he’d kept up polite responses to avoid offending him.
Still, the mental exhaustion was real.

“Wardanaz! You’re back!”

His friends in the lounge looked up eagerly from their desks.
Yoener sat among them, checking potions alongside a few other students.

They were experimenting with the potions Ihan and Ratford had stolen earlier from the carriage — salvaged vials from Professor Thunderstep’s lab.

“Any discoveries?”

“Wardanaz, we’ve done it!”

“??”

One student beside Yoener shouted excitedly,
“We found—a miracle potion!”

“You mean… teleportation potion?” Ihan asked skeptically.

“No… well, not that good,” the student admitted.
“But close! Watch this! Gainando!”

Gainando stepped forward looking strangely… composed.

More intelligent.

What the—did they clone him?

His calm, collected expression gave Ihan the sudden urge to punch him.

“Gainando, who teaches Basic Magical Comprehension?”

“Professor Garcia Kim.”

“How do you brew a low-grade mana restoration potion?”

“Cut the stem of Galamaldu, slice the remaining piece to the length of two finger joints. At the same time, tear Seolhyang grass by hand. Do not delay; tear it before the Galamaldu dries.”

He recited with flawless precision.

The Blue Dragon students cheered in unison.

“See?! Wisdom Potion! It works!”

Among alchemical tonics, there did exist brews that temporarily enhanced cognition.
Judging from Gainando’s sharp demeanor, it really did seem authentic.

This reddish liquid—it had to be a Wisdom Potion.

Wait. Did these idiots test it… on Gainando?!

Ihan wondered, but decided to let it go. Bigger matters first.

“You really think it’s a Wisdom Potion?” he asked Yoener quietly.

Yoener’s brow furrowed.
“I’m not entirely sure yet. But from Gainando’s responses… it’s possible.”

“You didn’t test it before he drank it?”

“No, he sort of… just grabbed it midway through the experiment.”

“……”

Ihan swallowed his sigh.

If it truly is a Wisdom Potion, that’s actually useful.

He could already think of a dozen classes where it would help:
take a sip before Professor Garcia’s lecture, a bit more before Volady’s ordeal, some for Thunderstep’s lab, a dash for Mortum, a gulp for Milley—

Counting on his fingers, he realized at once how dangerous that thought was.
Potions always exacted a price. Overuse of any elixir would wreck the body.

Still, in this school, one could never have too much wisdom.

Maybe I should test it a little more…

He turned to Gainando.

“What’s fourteen times nineteen?”

“Four hundred seventeen.”

Instant answer.

The Blue Dragon Tower students erupted in triumphant cheers.

But Ihan, Yoener, Asan, and the Princess all exchanged uneasy glances.

…Wait a second.

Footnotes:

• Wisdom Potion: Alchemical tonic that temporarily enhances memory and logical processing. Prolonged use may cause cognitive burnout. 
• The Forgotten Beast Statue: An ancient sentient construct left over from the academy’s past, renowned for loneliness—and an obsession with chess. 

Dwarven Gambit: A fictional chess-opening strategy unique to the Tutanta dwarves, beginning with 1.e4 e5 2.f4.