10.
Becoming a temporary professor at the academy wasn’t difficult at all.
As soon as a position became vacant due to a professor’s ankle injury, the son of a Viscount’s family arrived with a stack of recommendation letters.
Once the professors confirmed his competence, everything proceeded smoothly.
“There’s nothing complicated about it. Just stay at the academy during the weekdays and supervise three hours of light training each day. We’ll handle the rest.”
“Sounds like a free ride.”
“We can’t expect too much from a temporary instructor. Just take it easy and guide them gently.”
Professors of the Department of Knight Studies didn’t expect much from “temporary professors” who were informally selected anyway.
They seemed to regard Lancel as little more than a scarecrow, meant to stand in until a proper professor arrived.
“Just until we find a permanent replacement,” they said. “Please try to avoid any incidents.”
“Of course,” Lancel replied. “Though I doubt a professor will ever actually come.”
“……?”
Naturally, no permanent professor would appear unless Lancel willed it.
The Academy’s Department of Knight Studies was cursed to forever have one vacant professorship. Just like Baron Onis, a mysterious accident would always keep one position open.
“It was just a passing thought,” Lancel added.
“……I see.”
The academy professors felt a chill run down their spines at Lancel’s subtle tone. They were perceptive individuals.
Regardless of the circumstances, the appearance of a young, temporary professor in the Department of Knight Studies was a notable event.
It was only natural that he would attract considerable attention both within and outside the academy.
“Lancel Dante? Who’s that?”
“The temporary professor.”
“I heard he’s been a knight for less than five years.”
“Someone like that? As a professor?”
Among the students, a few began to voice their dissatisfaction, particularly those of high social standing.
They seemed displeased by the presence of a professor who was barely older than themselves.
“Professor Lancel Dante.”
From the moment Lancel first appeared in the training grounds some students wore expressions of open resentment.
“I’ve heard that becoming an academy professor isn’t something just anyone can do… However, Your Excellency’s name seems quite unfamiliar to me, considering I’m here to seek instruction.”
“……”
“I’m merely expressing my doubts about whether I should be placed under Your Excellency’s guidance. Please don’t take this too personally, as I’m simply being frank.”
The student was essentially saying, “Who is this nobody pretending to be a professor?” in the most polite way possible.
After all, within the academy, the relationship between professors and students was nominally hierarchical, regardless of their noble status.
‘The heir of Duke Monde, Wivel Monde…’
Lancel cracked his knuckles, sizing up the handsome man who wore earrings.
“Perhaps you could offer some response, Sir Lancel Dante?”
The man, who had been referred to as the “Duke’s successor” in the original game, now glared defiantly at Lancel.
“Very well,” Lancel said, dumping the wooden swords from the training grounds onto the floor with a clang.
The academy students stared in bewilderment as dozens of wooden swords rolled across the grassy field.
“Since this is our first class, let’s see what you’re all capable of,” Lancel said with a smile. “I need to verify if you’re skilled enough to question my authority as professor.”
“Are you suggesting a sparring match?”
“Let’s call it both a sparring match and an exam, shall we?”
Lancel picked up a wooden sword and gestured to them. “Anyone who manages to land a single strike on me will automatically receive the highest grade. What do you say?”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
The terms seemed extraordinarily unconventional.
“Didn’t you all want to graduate at the top of your class and bring glory to your families? Come on, pick up your swords. First come, first served.”
One by one, the students who had been watching cautiously stepped forward and picked up wooden swords.
“I will go first. Lancel Dante.”
“Be my guest.”
A moment later, wails began to echo through the training grounds.
“Aaaahh!”
“I-I yield! Aaaahh! I surrendered, so why…!”
“Accckkkk!”
“A knight crawling on the ground? How pathetic. Next!”
“Aaaaaah!”
“S-spare me, please!”
.
.
.
“What is going on over there?”
“It looks like the new temporary professor and the students are sparring…”
“Sparring? Is that right?”
The so-called sparring centered around Lancel Dante was nothing more than a brutal assault, abuse, and one-sided violence.
It only stopped when passing professors noticed the scene.
“Stop it! Stop! You will kill them!”
Lancel lowered the wooden sword he held, glancing at the academy students sprawled on the ground.
The challenging glares that had been directed at him just two hours earlier had been replaced with wide-eyed terror.
Every student in the Department of Knight Studies, regardless of gender, bore bruises on their bodies.
The thought that they might have lost limbs if the sword had been real drained all the arrogance from their faces.
“Your talent is remarkable, but you still have a long way to go. Continue working hard.”
From that day on, no one questioned Lancel’s qualifications again.
After all, being knights, they believed nothing was more convincing than experiencing something firsthand.
Having fully settled into the academy, Lancel began establishing his routine.
“Today’s lesson is…”
During each of the three weekly training sessions he was assigned to oversee, he would announce:
“Independent study.”
“Huh?”
“Train yourselves as you see fit.”
“Ah, yes.”
Then the next day…
“Today’s lesson is independent study.”
The day after that too…
“Today’s lesson is independent study.”
The following week…
“Independent study.”
The week after that…
“…independent…”
“……”
This so-called “independent study” was nothing more than blatant neglect of his duties as a professor.
Lancel had perfected his position within the academy of doing nothing but loafing around and wasting resources, a complete drain on the institution.
The educational institution’s sole purpose was to rank knights. As long as evaluations were conducted properly, the actual curriculum didn’t matter much.
This was especially true for the Department of Knight Studies. What theoretical knowledge could these students, who had wielded swords since they learned to walk, possibly need to learn now?
For them, experience and practical training were far more crucial. This stood in stark contrast to the Magic Department and Administration Academy, where intellectual pursuits and academic learning were paramount.
‘Is Marigold still being ostracized?’
Around this point, Lancel began searching for Marigold, whom he hadn’t seen in a while.
“What are you doing?”
Three weeks into his temporary professorship at the academy, Lancel found her with disheveled hair, munching on a sandwich.
“They say making friends lowers human strength.”
“……”
“It’s the completion of a world where no one gets hurt.”
Her condition, after not having seen her for so long, seemed utterly bizarre to Lancel.
11.
———
[Fallen Noblewoman Simulation]
Schedule for the fourth week of March:
Monday – Magic Theory Class (Location: Lecture Hall).
Tuesday – Applied Magic Practice (Location: Training Grounds).
Wednesday – Magic Tool Crafting (Location: Workshop Room).
Thursday – Basic Magic Class (Location: Lecture Hall).
Friday – Applied Magic Practice (Location: Training Grounds).
Saturday – Be a magic research assistant to Baron Zenith.
Sunday – Be a magic research assistant to Baron Zenith.
※ Goal: Make 100 friends!
———
Unlike the Department of Knight Studies, which merely gathered students for competition, the Magic Department was a proper educational institution.
Professors carefully selected by the academy expounded their magical theories to the students.
Within its walls, the department functioned as a “university,” selecting researchers to develop new spells.
“We’re going to be late for class, Miss!”
“Ughhh!”
“See? I told you not to doze off. You know no one will wake you up.”
“I didn’t know Pina would fall asleep too!”
“Are you blaming me now?”
“I’m not blaming you, I just…!”
“Just hurry up and run!”
Urged by Pina, Marigold clutched a stack of books to her chest and sprinted down the corridor.
Her tightly bound hair and grimy robes billowed behind her as she rushed toward the lecture hall, where class was already in full swing.
“Ah!”
The next moment, Marigold’s ankle twisted, and she crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
The books and papers she was carrying scattered in all directions.
“No…!”
“You can’t survive like this! What are you doing when there’s no time?”
“Ugh!”
As she frantically scrambled to gather the documents, a pale hand appeared before her, offering assistance.
“Are you okay?”
When she looked up, a handsome young man was gazing down at her.
“I’ll help you pick these up.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” Marigold said, shaking her head so vigorously it made a whooshing sound. She quickly gathered the scattered items, as if afraid he might insist on helping.
“I’ll do it myself. It’s okay.”
“……”
The young man blinked, looking awkwardly at his outstretched hand.
“I’ve been wondering for a while, Miss Mary… are you perhaps avoiding me?”
He was a boy with an air of nobility so refined he could easily be mistaken for a girl.
His features were striking: a blue bob haircut, drooping eyes, a faint smile that perpetually lingered at the corners of his lips, a beauty mark beneath his eye, and a pure white robe.
He was a young mage with such a polished appearance that every passersby couldn’t help but glance back at least once.
“Are you avoiding me because some kids don’t like me being friendly with you? If that’s the reason, I could talk to them.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter, right? I really want to be friends with Marigold…”
“Just… just no!”
Marigold replied without turning back and dashed down the corridor.
“Ouch!”
She tripped again moments later, but this time, she refused his help and gathered her scattered documents herself.
“……”
The boy stood motionless, gazing at Marigold’s retreating figure in the distance.
“Ah! Young Master Aldehar! Why are you here when class is about to start?”
The boy turned at the sound of a female voice behind him.
A researcher from the Magic Academy approached him with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him.
“Are you running late? It’s so unlike you to be tardy, Young Master Aldehar. How unusual!”
The boy was known for his ability to make others feel happy simply by speaking to them.
“I’ll walk you to the lecture hall, Young Master. Hehe.”
The boy, named Aldehar, pondered for a moment before finally speaking.
“Hey… do you think anyone dislikes me?”
“Huh? Wh-who? Young Master Aldehar?”
“Mmmm.”
“No way! That can’t be true! Who would dare hate Young Master Aldehar? The heir to the Kingdom of Lucia and the youngest Fourth Rank genius wizard in the land! Who on this entire continent would even think of it?!”
“Really?”
“Absolutely!”
Even as the stream of compliments and reassurances flowed smoothly from the researcher’s lips, Aldehar remained unmoved.
“But it’s not easy getting close to Miss Mary.”
“Ah, Miss Mary…” The researcher subtly averted her gaze.
Marigold.
She was already notorious within the academy as the outcast of the Magic Department.
“Miss Mary is… a rather unique person. Hahaha…”
“Is that so?”
“There are some rumors…”
Rumors about Marigold were already rampant within the Magic Department.
A commoner, an orphan, Baron Zenith’s disciple, a novice just beginning to learn magic, a pretty-faced kid—the list went on.
Among the countless rumors, the most damaging to her reputation was undoubtedly the incident that occurred when she first arrived at the academy.
