She froze still. Students didn’t intend to linger any second longer, but a couple of jealous girls stopped to watch Izumi catching up with the mage girl in the corridor.

“Yes… of course,” Niji slowly turned to him.

“See you in the cafeteria,” Shiningreel lifted her snubbed nose and headed for the staircase, shooing the onlookers away.

“And I need to go to the alchemy lab,” Rem mumbled. “Unless you, Sensei, need me too, I’d rather…”

“It’s fine, Oswaldt-kun. We will discuss the possibility of working in the Supply Division later.”

Rem disappeared, and Niji felt like she was squeezing into a tight lump. The conversation was bound to be complicated. What if Izumi had already found out about what happened in the laboratory?

“Could I ask you, Murasaki-san, whether you consider it suitable to speak in the auditorium while your professor is delivering a lecture?”

Niji could not believe her ears. So, that was it. What a blessing they wouldn’t discuss how her blood had become violet all of a sudden.

“I am deeply sorry for that, Sensei,” she bowed. “In fact, we were discussing the material.”

“To a certain extent, it is quite delightful that my speech has provoked some reaction, whatever it may be. What in my words caused such a heated debate, exactly?”

“One of the students scoffed at your words. She strongly believes that if you are a mage, then you are superior by default. As if the whole course got into one ear and out the other. And she is not alone to put on such airs. Have you noticed that among our community there are many people who think too much of themselves?”

“I do agree that a few individuals lack such a simple but valuable trait as a sober assessment of their own capabilities. I would be grateful if you would elaborate on your point of view on the problem of compromise.”

“I don’t think my opinion matters…” Niji vacillated, trying to avoid meeting Sensei’s eyes.

“I will not dare to insist, however, I would love to hear your thoughts, especially since we might work together in the future. Magic in modern society is a very significant subject, the feedback on which is critically important.”

It seemed like the time had come to admit that she already had other plans. Niji sighed nervously: “I… I don’t think I can go along with PRISM’s mission… yes, the Institution contributes a lot to integrate mages in the community, trying to gradually—”

“Murasaki-san, I am more interested in your personal position rather than a recap of my own lectures. Besides… it would be nice if you were speaking to me, not to the floor.”

The girl lifted her head, but her eyes were still directed to anything but the professor’s face.

“From the point of view of a magicless person, mages are dangerous,” she said. “But ordinary people are dangerous as well. Give some moron either a knife or a fireball—it ends up in murder anyway. Does it matter then whether he is a mage or not?”

“Exactly. This is the very idea that PRISM and the Academy are promoting. From the point of view of how society functions, there is no difference between people with magical abilities and those who are deprived of them.”

“But you are still highlighting that there is a difference!” Niji clenched her fists and finally looked Izumi in the eye. “If everyone is equal, then why are we the only ones who are compromising? This way you keep on emphasizing that we are something else.”

“We are forced to limit ourselves, because there are individuals among us who cannot accept the burden of responsibility, knowingly or not. If we, mages, are given too much authority, this leads to chaos, and history has seen more than enough examples of this. Surely you remember the story of one of the Omnious, who took revenge on his son’s kidnappers by killing not only them, but a thousand civilians along the way. The lengths he went just to save him... when given a special power, it is too easy to give in to temptation.”

Yes, she remembered it. She was still just a child at that time, but the scandal had turned out to be tremendous: a child of one of the PRISM executives, who was advocating indulgences for the magical community, was taken hostage by a group of magicless terrorists. Their demand was to cease all activities which they considered anti-feeble. That mage hadn’t succumbed until the criminals began to cut off his child’s fingers one by one. In the end, that man had simply demolished half of a city district, and PRISM had no choice but to execute him—otherwise the enraged public would have obliterated the magical society, like in the worst excesses of the Inquisition.

Izumi went on, “And he was a Celestial, of the spectrum shade never associated with violence. Imagine what a Violet could have done in his place. Exterminated the whole city?”

At the mention of the Viols, Niji felt another wave of panic. Had Izumi noticed her despair? Oh no, please no. His arguments were valid, and she had nothing but her own issue to dispute them. Considering how much this problem concerned her personally, she decided to remain silent so the biased emotions wouldn’t betray her.

Izumi continued, “Even we ourselves cannot comprehend the true strength of the Cursed. And this is terrifying. Most people do not see the difference between a Violet and a sane mage. It is impossible to convince them that we are not dangerous as long as there are uncontrollable monsters, which are much more difficult to deal with than you could expect from a ‘moron with a knife.’ This is exactly why the Institution’s mission is to support our positive image, and the Special Unit is doing its best to protect the society from any disturbance caused by our kind. You do understand that if you want to join us, right?”

“I… I don’t think I do anymore.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve decided I won’t enlist.”

The mage girl had never seen the professor so taken aback. Izumi was obviously failing to grasp the logic behind her action, and no way she could confess what was the true ground for her sudden decision. How stupid did she look in front of him, switching from an unbridled desire of becoming a defender of justice to rebellious indifference.

“I admit I am quite disappointed to hear that,” he said. “I wonder... what is the reason for such a spontaneous change of heart?”

That very heart was pounding as if it was a ping pong ball in a match between two world champions. The Elementalist tried hard not to give herself away, but her genuine composure was failing her with each second.

“I am very grateful to you, Izumi-sensei, for all the knowledge and support given to me, but... the Institution’s idea of constant pressure doesn’t appeal to me. You were talking all the time about how important it is to reach compromises that are impossible unless the mages have their hands tied. But it’s not a compromise. It’s racism of a sort.”

“Sou desu ka. Your position is understandable. Thank you for sharing it with me, Murasaki-san.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve let you down, Sensei.” Niji bowed, demonstrating her regret.

“That is fine. For a moment, you just didn’t sound like yourself, that’s all. I know a lot of people who share your viewpoint, and it certainly has a right to exist, but… it is a dangerous path you have stepped on.”

Izumi carefully inspected the girl: for a second she imagined that he knew what was going on with her, and Niji had almost forgotten how to breathe.

“As it was already mentioned in our conversation, many people lack an adequate assessment of their own capabilities. I’d like to warn you that this evaluation could be registered from different perspectives; as advantage or disadvantage. You should be aiming at figuring out what is true for you.”

“I… I am not sure I get what you mean, Sensei…”

Izumi smiled and gave a chuckle, which surprised her even more.

“Never mind. I hope that our polar opposite views on magical laws won’t interfere with our routine of playing mahjong games from time to time.”

Telling lies brought almost physical pain to her, but Niji uttered, “No, of course not.”