The awards ceremony was over. The many scientists who had blocked my path with fierce attitudes seemed to understand my sincerity after a few words of conversation about their research topics. They shed tears and stepped aside.

Leaving the ceremony without any issues was satisfying, but it seemed some of the remarks I made there were quite shocking.

[“I have no interest in commoners. I don’t need this kind of award.”]
[–A genius who mocks even gods. Let’s take a closer look at Dr. Eight.]
[“The thing about science, you see, is that the era of relying on a single genius is over. But people don’t understand that….”
"Ah, then what do you think of Dr. Eight, who just received the ABC Award?”
“A fraud! I’ll bet on it! True geniuses don’t emerge overnight; they achieve consistent results over time. That person didn’t just fall from the sky! It’s clear Evilus Corporation manipulated this to create their brand image….”]

On TV, the internet, and social media, my remarks and my very existence were hot topics. Watching it unfold, I couldn’t help but think that the pursuit of dopamine is the same whether here or on Earth.

Even in a world with superpowers, beastkin, heroes, and magical girls, people still crave stimulation. Perhaps it’s because of these extraordinary beings that they react even more sensitively to such stimuli.

I glanced out the window.

‘Quiet, huh.’

If this were Earth, there would be protesters outside Evilus Corporation’s building with placards, shouting for the truth. But this was E City—a place entirely subjugated to Evilus Corporation. Naturally, no such protests existed here.

While external protesters could theoretically come to E City, the groups capable of organizing such professional protests were already under our control. The odds of such a protest forming were practically zero.

It’s like asking if South Korea could send a protest group to the U.S. because they don’t like them. Logistically or politically, it’s impossible.

“...Professor, doesn’t it upset you?”
“Hm? What does?”
“Well… even though you’ve won such a prestigious award, instead of celebrating, people are just badmouthing you…”

Aile spoke, trembling with anger. She was enraged on my behalf, treating the insults from the news as if they were directed at her. Considering her gentle nature, this level of anger must not have been easy for her.

Watching Aile shake with fury, I couldn’t help but chuckle. So what if the whole world insulted me? The encouragement of the one person by my side matters more than the curses of faceless masses.

I crouched beside her and patted her shoulder. Each time my hand touched her, she flinched.

“Huh, h-huh?”
“Thanks, Aile. I feel better because of you.”
“W-what… uh, huh…?”
“Don’t worry too much. The people by my side are more precious than ten thousand others.”
“Ugh, hic, h-hic—!”

Watching Aile hiccup uncontrollably, her body trembling with each hiccup, a thought crossed my mind.

“Hmm… By the way, Aile?”
“Y-yes, hhic—!”
“You’ve gained some weight, haven’t you? Haven’t been exercising lately?”

The moment I said it, Aile froze mid-hiccup and shot me a piercing glare. If she had a knife in her hand, she might’ve stabbed me right then and there.

Startled, I averted my gaze and cautiously stood up.

“...Should I make you some diet pills?”
“...No thanks. I’ll lose weight myself.”
“I could make it so the belly fat turns into chest fat…”

That last suggestion must have been too tempting, even for the sulking Aile. She hesitantly looked at me and muttered.

“Well… as a favor to you… just this once…”
“Sure…”
“Make it for me…”
“You’re asking me to do it now…”
“S-shut up!”

Leaving behind the yelling Aile, I walked to the corner of the lab to start making the diet pills she requested.

Scholarly Secrets: Scolla

The organization supporting the world’s greatest geniuses, who defy even gods, is Scolla—a secret society.

As a member of Scolla, I’ve enjoyed countless benefits beyond description. Even now, when Evilus Corporation has become the world’s largest company and cities are reduced to rubble, nothing has changed.

“Hahaha! Who knew you’d say that? This guy’s a real lunatic, isn’t he?”
“Don’t act recklessly before the gods.”
“Why are you always like this, old man? Did you eat something bad?”

Recently, I received a summons from a fellow Scolla member. Not everyone was summoned; it was a personal request from one member.

Apparently, members had the right to do this. While attendance wasn’t mandatory, Dr. Swalon advised me that it would be prudent to attend, as such summonses were rare.

“Do you know what happened during the last summons? Back then…”
“Ah, this old man again with his boring stories. Does anyone enjoy this?”

While waiting for the summoning member to arrive, those of us already gathered passed the time chatting. Given the immense value of everyone’s time, the summoner had better present something captivating, or the backlash could be severe—perhaps even leading to expulsion from Scolla.

“Ah… is everyone here?”

Before long, a woman with dark circles under her eyes cautiously entered the room. Her dusky skin tone indicated her ethnicity—likely equivalent to Indian on Earth.

Introducing herself as A.A. (Scolla Number 7, whom I’d never encountered before), she quickly got to the point, wasting no time.

“Not everyone’s here, but this will suffice. Look at this—.”

Beep.

A.A. projected something onto a massive monitor. The screen displayed nothing but blackness for a long time. As everyone’s eyes silently demanded an explanation, she nonchalantly fiddled with the remote.

Eventually, the blackness began to shrink, and glowing objects—lamps and radioactive materials—appeared.

At first, no one grasped the meaning of the image. But then, the video changed to show A.A. herself holding a camera.

“Did you see it clearly…?”
“What was that? A new trash bin?”
“It’s a new dimension… not of this universe but another.”

At her words, everyone, including myself, looked at her in disbelief. My reason was different, though—I was astonished that she’d discovered another universe alone with current technology. Others likely doubted its feasibility.

Despite the skeptical looks, A.A. pressed on without hesitation.

“I had planned to monopolize this discovery… but circumstances have made that impossible. Do you see this?”

She held up an orb, its surface resembling the radioactive materials from the video.

Seeing it, the gathered members recoiled, but A.A. calmly stroked the orb’s surface.

“It’s fine… This material’s atomic activity has completely ceased.”
“...Atomic activity has ceased? What does that mean?”
“That’s why I’ve called you here—I don’t understand it myself.”

With a sigh, she explained.

“That universe… It’s likely already dead. A frozen universe where all activity has ceased.”
“The Big Freeze…”
“Oh, that’s an apt name.”

After assigning the term “thermal death” to the discovery, she issued a grave warning.

“From this dead world… death has begun to spread into ours.”
“...What?”
“In other words…”

With a deep bow, she whispered an apology.

“I’m sorry. It seems I’ve opened something that should never have been opened.”

The room fell silent. Everyone understood the implications.
She had opened a gateway to a world of death.
And now, that death was reaching out to ours.