#45. Imposter

Ivan Ward. Age 20.

The eldest son of a well-regarded Duke family and an elite in every sense of the word, but recently experienced a disgraceful incident that lead to his downfall.

Expelled from the Pellit Academy.

Also stripped of his title as the Ward Family heir.

A simpleton abandoned by both his school and family.

And so.

What is he doing right now?

“Ah.”

A room, white on all sides.

Inside, all sorts of experimental tools are crowded together. The excessively clean atmosphere is, in a way, bizarre.

And in the center, a simple cot.

Ivan is lying there.

Why?

Well… because.

“Welcome to Lunia, Subject Number One.”

Because he’s a subject.

“Shit…!”

Ivan’s downfall. The source of it all.

Raine Ortiz.

Raine stole everything from Ivan, reducing him to nothing more than a test subject.

Ivan resents him. He will never forget this grudge, and someday, he will surely succeed in his revenge, and…

“Hey.”

“Huh.”

“Thinking strange things again, aren’t you?”

Raine, having dismounted from the carriage, had pushed aside all his other appointments and headed straight to the laboratory.

It was, without a doubt, because of some measure he needed to take with Ivan.

“Wait, that’s…”

Raine picked up a tool. It was a round, cylindrical shape with a small needle attached.

The rumored syringe.

He’d heard it was recently invented, but how did he get his hands on it…?

“Wh-what are you trying to inject me with…?”

“What do you think?”

“Damn it, get away! Get away from me!”

Ivan thrashes.

“Just stay still for a bit. If I mess up, I have to poke you again, you know?”

Ivan quiets down.

The feeling of the needle piercing his skin was incredibly strange.

Stinging, unpleasant.

“Ah, I poked the wrong spot.”

“?”

“Just one more time.”

The needle went in about three more times.

“What did you inject me with? I feel sick…”

“Penicillin.”

“……”

Penicillin?

“How does this one possess that…thing, hailed as a revolution in alchemy?”

Mass production was supposed to be far off.

Even the Ward family couldn’t obtain it. How?

Just what is this b*stard?

“Enough. Get up now.”

“……?”

Filled only with questions, Ward found himself led out of the laboratory.

Wait.

Is this it?

That can’t be right… can it?

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?”

“Later. Today, I just called you in for a penicillin injection.”

“Why?”

“Gotta keep you healthy if I’m going to use you for a long time.”

Just when he thought it was over, he was made to sit at a desk.

…A desk?

“Actually, there’s quite a bit to do. I’ll need your help.”

A massive office desk. Before it, an enormous mountain of documents.

Ivan stared blankly, alternating his gaze between the documents and Reine.

“For now, you’ll be doing some grunt work.”

That’s right.

Ivan Ward, having come to Lunea under the guise of a test subject…

“This, could it be…”

Had essentially become a slave.

*

Weeks had passed since the end of the gathering.

Originally, he’d intended to start the experiments as soon as he arrived at the academy, but when he tried to, he found he had too much backlogged research and gave up.

Hm?

Wait a moment.

“Professor Rachel.”

“What is it?”

“Why am *I* doing research, when I’m supposed to be a student?”

Honestly.

My current situation doesn’t feel like that of a student at all.

Most of my daily routine lately consists of research. I barely attend lectures because of it.

This is just… Isn’t this more like a professor who graduated early?

Professor Rachel answered.

“Honestly, you find research more interesting than lectures, don’t you?”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

It was a valid point, so he didn’t argue.

Still, whatever.

If you ask if it’s harder than just attending lectures, well, it’s not exactly that either.

“Ivan, tidy this up a bit too.”

“······.”

Because a magnificent slave has appeared.

“I-if I just do this, can I rest······?”

Deep dark circles and high-prescription glasses.

Only a few weeks ago, Ivan Ward ‘looked like an aristocrat,’ but now he’s the spitting image of a graduate student.

“There’s a mountain of work to do, why are you trying to rest already?”

“Ah······.”

Ivan sighs. He looks like he might die any second, but it’s alright. People don’t die that easily.

Frankly, I think I treat him better than other professors. At least I don’t make him write papers.

Anyway, Ivan is being used well. Better than I even imagined.

“Oh, speaking of which.”

As the conversation with Ivan ended, Professor Rachel, who was organizing data, suddenly chimed in.

“What are you going to do about the imposters?”

“Ah.”

A problem I’d forgotten.

Trash exists everywhere in the world. Especially those who use the pain of others as a weapon, they swarm like cockroaches.

The Empire was no different.

As I’ve mentioned several times, I haven’t made most of my achievements public. It was a decision made out of concern that it would become troublesome in various ways, and as a result, the inventor of penicillin is still ‘unknown.’

In short, the vast majority of the Empire still doesn’t know the source of penicillin.

A medical revolution that suddenly appeared out of nowhere without any information. It was the perfect bait for fraudsters to target.

People started popping up, claiming, “I invented penicillin!”

“It is troublesome.”

Of course, my identity is guaranteed by the Empire, so identifying the imposters isn’t difficult. In the first place, the so-called ‘fake penicillin’ they made had a negligible effect as a medicine and often had other side effects.

Those side effects are the real problem.

What if the Empire is too late, and fake penicillin has already been distributed?

An innocent victim would be created immediately.

Rachel asked,

“Isn’t it about time you made a decision?”

Indeed.

I could no longer avoid it by making excuses about the bother.

Because the surest way to eradicate the imposters is the appearance of the ‘real thing.’

“I have no choice.”

Is this the end of hiding, then?

“Let’s set up a meeting. I’ll have to see His Imperial Majesty.”

However.

*Bang!*

“T-this is terrible!”

Unexpected things, they always do have a way of happening.

“What is it?”

Professor Pelliana burst into the lab, a sense of urgency about her.

Not particularly welcome news, this. I could sense it.

“It appears our penicillin technology has been leaked.”

*

A new incident had occurred.

The ever-present problem of imposters.

Except this time…

The situation was significantly more complicated.

“Explain in detail, please.”

“…You’ve heard of the ‘Kingdom of Ailon,’ haven’t you?”

“Yes, isn’t it known as the nation of geniuses?”

What constitutes a genius?

Many criteria exist, but the most common is, undoubtedly, ‘intellectual brilliance.’

The Kingdom of Ailon is a nation where the average intelligence of its people is remarkably high. Hence, it is often called the nation of geniuses, a place where countless talented individuals from various countries gather.

“Recently, a genius has emerged there.”

“Isn’t it common for geniuses to appear there?”

“That’s true, but this time it’s a bit different. A genius even among geniuses. Almost… like you, one might say.”

“Like me?”

Professor Pelliana showed me several newspapers.

Newspapers filled with stories about the Kingdom of Ailon, and indeed. It was certainly something ‘remarkable.’

“Conquering previously unsolved problems, creating circuits… I see why you say it’s similar.”

But, thanks to this, it became definite.

“These are all problems I’ve solved?”

“Correct. And so, the Imperial Family considers this a blatant leak.”

Conquering previously unsolved problems.

Well, I suppose that’s possible. It was a problem I’d been researching for a while, and there have been cases of others solving it, too.

But direct and alternating current, and penicillin, are slightly different matters.

Because those are things only I could have discovered.

Consider the birth of penicillin on Earth.

The discovery of the antibacterial effects of *Penicillium* mold was a result of considerable luck, and even then, it was only possible because of previously developed technologies.

So, what about this world?

A world without culturing techniques, without the technology to observe bacteria. Suddenly creating penicillin is simply unheard of. The same goes for direct and alternating current.

“There’s nothing more to see here.”

These are clearly technologies stored under the highest security, so the culprit is undoubtedly among the Imperial Family’s inner circle. Investigating those whose behavior has been suspicious recently should lead to a quick discovery.

The problem is the leaked technology…

“Those Ailon b*stards, already claiming they invented it?”

“…Yes.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Honestly, it doesn’t compute.

Of course, the Kingdom of Aylon isn’t exactly on friendly terms with the Empire. A historically antagonistic nation, so much so that an Imperial genius defecting to Aylon would immediately be branded a traitor.

But to act like this?

It could easily escalate into a diplomatic incident.

An incomprehensible move. I have a feeling there’s something else hidden.

“Well, nothing can be done about it.”

I suppose…

That’s a problem for later.

What I need to do now is clear.

“What will you do?”

“We must retrieve it.”

Retrieve the stolen technology.

There’s no time to waste.

“Prepare the carriage.”