Chapter 118

Chapter 118

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 118: Love And Thesis (2).

Flance was a senior from a financially struggling household. Despite these hardships, he enrolled in the physics department with a single-minded determination to explore the mysteries of nature, surviving on a meager salary from the theoretical research lab.

“They’re giving this much?”

Now, there was no need to live like that anymore.

“Flance, we made a vow.”

“Even though we didn’t start on the same day, let’s graduate together.”

Using the same persuasive technique, I managed to convince two more people. Senior Ian, who came from a wealthy family, initially resisted fiercely. However, when I offered him a wad of cash that was three times his family’s entire fortune, he finally relented.

“Student Aidel.”

It was no surprise that Stranov looked taken aback. After all, this decision had been somewhat spontaneous on my part.

“The student always exceeds my expectations. How did you come up with the idea to take all of Feynman’s students?”

“I thought it was what you wanted, Professor. Wasn’t it?”

“Why did you think that?”

Her tone wasn’t scolding; it was just how professors communicated. I knew I should respond honestly, but I aimed to please as well.

“Because Professor Feynman suits you very well.”

“Oh my.”

“A match made in heaven.”

At least, your lab is.

Stranov began to hum a soft tune; her mood markedly improved from the previous day. Despite having sent me a text disparaging Feynman, her true feelings seemed to be at odds with her words. After all, it was a decade-long, unrequited love. She had brought me here in the first place to provoke him, perhaps wanting Feynman to experience the sting of heartbreak or something like that.

To change the Professor’s mind—a belief that it’s too late to get married and that a physicist’s prime begins in their 30s—this much effort is necessary.

“Ah, there’s a call from the professor.”

“What are you going to do? Are you going to answer it?”

“Don’t answer it.”

Stranov took Mercury senior’s phone and set it aside.

“Everyone, don’t you think this communicator is quite old?”

“It’s definitely time for an upgrade.”

“Then just take out the chip and give me the body. I’ll get you a new one.”

The suggestion to replace the phone was a clever way to alleviate the guilt of ignoring calls.

“Shall we start preparing?”

“Professor, I wish you the best of success.”

“I am…”

There was no need for her to finish the thought; she was ready. Yet a hint of fear flickered in her expression.

“This will be the fifth time. Honestly, I think I’m going to get exhausted if I keep this up.”

“You can do it, Professor. They say no tree won’t fall if you chop at it ten times.”

“Does that mean I have to chop six more times?”

“Professor Feynman might be a tree that falls after just five chops.”

“Exactly. We will become the sharp axe for you.”

The seniors quickly chimed in, ready with excuses. But if things didn’t go well, it was impossible to predict how they would be treated in academia.

So.

We must succeed.

“What am I even looking at?”

Zelnya was still munching on popcorn.

The Quantum Gravity Theory lab lay in ruins.

Professor Feynman wandered near the lab entrance, his expression dazed. He occasionally fiddled with his phone, letting out deep, weary sighs. Stranov’s graduate students, witnessing his state, would offer him small tributes—corn or coffee—but he hardly touched either.

It was honestly pitiful. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. But this was the reality for all of us—sacrifices made in the name of research on the Graviton Bomb, a project aimed at preventing the end of the world. I had to play the role of bait to mend the rift between the two professors.

The day of the showdown arrived. Professor Stranov bore the weight of the situation. At the same time, my fellow seniors and I transformed into lead bullets, ready to be fired. All preparations were complete. Only one task remained: Professor Stranov needed to place her index finger on the metaphorical trigger.

“Richard, you’re still here?”

Feynman, who had been staring blankly at the ceiling, finally lowered his head. Stranov set down two cups of black tea. In the southern region, black tea symbolizes reconciliation and reunion.

“Professor Stranov, have you seen my graduate students?”

“Oh, you mean those guys?”

Feynman’s face hardened as realization struck him. Stranov took a sip of her tea and gestured for us to proceed. I nudged the three students forward.

“Professor.”

“Are you talking about them?”

“……!”

The God of ‘Wisdom and Curiosity’ smiles, touching her forehead.

And so, the chaotic party began.

“Why are our lab students coming out of there?”

“In fact, Professor Stranov called us for a discussion about the method of discovering gravitons.”

“So, while we were engrossed in the discussion with the professor, we lost track of time.”

“I’m really sorry, Professor.”

It’s not uncommon for graduate students to engage in discussions with professors outside their advising circle—it’s often encouraged. But how would Feynman perceive this? His expression was shifting from curiosity to something more troubled.

“Why did you take my students without saying a word?” Instead of reprimanding his students, the usually kind Professor turned his focus to Stranov. The latter responded with a tone that was half apology, half annoyance.

“I like these students too.”

“What!”

“If they want, I’ll transfer them to my lab. Of course, their PhD status would remain intact. I’d even consider their years and shorten their graduation period.”

“Kallis!” Feynman shouted, pointing toward the ceiling. “Aren’t you afraid of the academic community?!”

“It doesn’t matter. We just need to give them more incentives.”

As long as the justification is sound, transferring to another graduate school isn’t an ethical issue. The real problem is that Feynman is simply too kind a professor, and that’s the inconvenient truth. Moreover, he’d been told, “Your student is impressive” four times. I could almost hear the gears of his mind grinding.

The God of ‘Wisdom and Curiosity’ doubts your humanity.

I hadn’t intended for things to escalate this far. The whip had been used enough; it was time for the carrot.

“Professor.”

The most enticing and persuasive carrot stepped forward.

“You gave me, an Academy first-year, the opportunity to be the first author of a journal. I haven’t forgotten that kindness.”

That person was me.

“I remember the days we spent writing papers together, the discussions we exchanged. I cherish all of those memories.”

Recalling those moments helped set the mood, and I then shifted to the main topic.

“Meanwhile, I was fortunate to learn a great deal from Professor Stranov. Because of that, I have come to respect both of you.”

I subtly encouraged Feynman to view Stranov favorably.

“I wish to be guided by both of you.”

In essence, I was requesting a joint advisory—having a foot in both camps.

Feynman moistened his cracked lips and bowed his head. After a brief silence, he spoke.

“Stellarium and Eruyel are different schools. In such cases, Stellarium does not allow joint advisory applications.”

“Professor.”

I took Feynman’s hand. Sensing the shift in mood, the other three seniors joined in.

“There are plenty of ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Richard, look at me.”

Professor Stranov answered on our behalf. She pulled out a chair and sat down across from us, her posture relaxed. The dress she wore, designed to entice men, revealed her sleek bare legs.

“Don’t you get any ideas by looking at me?”

“Kallis, I…”

“It’s been almost 15 years since we met. By now, we should be able to understand each other without words. Surely, you can’t be that dense.”

He faced three choices.

First, he could run away and leave everything as it was.

Second, he could skillfully retrieve the graduate student and return.

And lastly, there was a third option.

“Marry me.”

“I just want to research freely and then leave. Marriage isn’t even a consideration. Well, it was once, but it’s already too late for that.”

“It’s not too late yet.”

They were both in their early thirties. One might think this was the perfect time. Still, in a world where tens of thousands die every second, the average age for marriage hovered around the early twenties.

But so what?

As long as there was love and the pursuit of research, did age really matter?

“Marry me.”

“Kallis.”

“If we get married, I’ll provide all the research funds and labs you need. I promise I’ll never engage in those dirty dealings again.”

“……”

“But if you refuse this time, our relationship is completely over. Just so you know, I’ll take responsibility for everyone here.”

This time, we had burned our bridges completely. Professor Stranov understood that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I winked at Professor Stranov, who nodded and delivered the prepared line.

“From now on, I will ensure your name is on every paper I write.”

Wow.

That was perfect.

“…Give me a moment to think.”

“Student Aidel, can you really come back to my lab?”

“I was in Professor Stranov’s lab out of necessity due to the research funds. I truly apologize for deceiving you, Professor.”

“No. If that’s the issue, it’s alright. It was my own shortcomings.”

An angel. An angel has appeared.

“Anyway, it boils down to getting permission for marriage, right?”

“I have nothing more to say.”

I bowed my head and offered another apology.

“But if you two could at least get along and conduct joint research, wouldn’t you be able to save more people? Like when you developed the theory to restore the Ether Barrier.”

“………”

Feynman swallowed his silence.

He thrives in a free and pastoral atmosphere, making him incompatible with Stranov, who is obsessively focused.

But still.

A pretty face, a good figure. Plenty of funding and excellent lab equipment.

“You absolutely have to collaborate with a lab like this.”

So, if they were to marry, it would be true love.

Pure love for research papers.

Feynman sighed and rose from his seat.

“Marriage isn’t something that can be decided as easily as romance. I’m not from a promising family like the Stranovs, and my earnings are modest. I don’t even know if I could manage a household smoothly.”

“You’re thinking about the other person.”

“Yes. There will be a better match for her.”

“You’ve been waiting for 15 years already?”

“……”

Feynman hesitated before speaking.

“But every time we met at conferences, we always fought……”

“Marital quarrel.”

“……”

“Oh, the popcorn is all gone.”

Zelnya folded the empty bag and sat next to me, offering her advice.

“Let me tell you one thing: women don’t stick around men they dislike. They won’t even talk to them.”

“……Is that so?”

“You’re completely clueless. All my friends have confirmed this.”

“Zelnya, you don’t have any friends.”

“Shut up. I have more than you.”

Professor Feynman nodded, his gaze shifting to Professor Stranov, who was waiting for an answer.

“What do you all think?”

“If it’s okay with you, Professor…”

“We’d also like to collaborate with Professor Stranov.”

Ah. Feynman sighed softly.

I am already bound. I can’t conduct research without Stranov. Maybe that’s what he’s thinking.

Unable to withstand the pressure any longer, Feynman finally declared his surrender.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Huh, uh…?”

“Let’s do it—marriage.”

Professor Stranov blinked in surprise.

“Honey!”

She rushed to Feynman and gave him a passionate kiss.

Wow, damn, wow.

Can I use both labs now?

“So, neither of them could come today?”

“That’s right.”

That’s strange. We were supposed to register their marriage after finishing the resonator research.

“Both of them injured their backs.”

“W-what?”

I pressed my fingers to my forehead and sank into my seat. Zelnya looked at me with a pitying gaze.

“Anyway, this week’s resonator research is suspended. It’s a rare break, so why don’t you take some time off, Reinhardt?”

“N-no. My vacation….”

“?”

I can’t just sit still like this. I need to use this unexpected free time to tackle the things I’ve been putting off.

I’ve already decided where to go.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Holy Spirit Hospital.”

It’s about time I checked on Ire Hazlen’s condition.