Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chapter 134 - EP.33 – 기사는 단속 당합니다(1)
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.33 – The Knight Gets Disciplined? (1)
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...He wanted to rest.
'How long do I have to keep living like this?'
He couldn't even properly remember the last time he'd slept, and fatigue never got a chance to fade.
Every day meant pulling all-nighters on work, and even after finishing, there was no time to rest.
There was always the next task lined up, or one would pop up out of nowhere.
"...Haha."
Finally, a madman's laugh escaped his lips.
Back in his mid-teens at the Royal Academy's middle division, summer break had been a time to luxuriate at the family villa.
Pampered by maids, no need to bother with tedious chores—the family chef made sure he got balanced, nutritious meals three times a day.
But now...
"How the hell did I end up like this...?"
...Damian Pollet muttered sadly, taking stock of his current predicament.
"Instructor."
"......"
"Here's your food! You've gotta eat properly!"
"Uh, Leira. I appreciate the meal, but the bowl..."
"Oh, this one? The knight insisted on this bowl only! Said it's your exclusive, and to serve food in nothing else!"
"...Crazy bastard."
"Huh?"
"...Not to you, Leira, damn it-!"
"Huh?"
She blinked innocently, clueless to the issue, and Damian was reminded anew that this maid was cut from the same cloth as that guy.
This damn house was full of lunatics!!
'A dog bowl! Least treat me like a person!!!'
In his 0.5-pyeong doghouse—no, the boarding room meticulously engraved with [Made in Lee Han]—assistant instructor Damian Pollet teared up as he gazed at the sky.
Damn it all, why was the sky so infuriatingly clear?
'Get struck by lightning!'
...But knowing even lightning wouldn't kill that monster was probably why he couldn't muster the will to rebel.
Damian was utterly miserable.
Damian Pollet.
Resident of the barely 0.5-pyeong doghouse—no, modestly humble boarding room—set up in the yard.
He'd originally planned to spend break in the academy dorms, but fate had forced him into this boarding life instead.
The reason?
...Just thinking about saying it out loud made his blood boil too much.
Finally enjoying a break with the damn instructor away, only for the guy to return suddenly, grab Damian by the nape like a vice, and drag him off with, "You work breaks too—where do you think you're slacking off to?"
...Hands down, the most terrifying moment of his life.
But now, what he'd once considered life's peak terror had changed.
'This is hell now.'
Damian ground his teeth, convinced his instructor was utterly conscienceless.
'Fuck! Why am I slaving away in this doghouse!'
Biting back tears, the sole occupant of the yard's cozy doghouse—no, boarding room—Damian threw himself into paperwork with renewed vigor.
This was originally the instructor's job.
Instructors, lecturers—anyone working at the academy was swamped even during breaks.
Not just prepping next semester's lectures; they had to submit at least ten documents, plus endless departmental requests.
Professors, lecturers, instructors—they buzzed in and out of the academy nonstop, buried in errands.
Because of this, Damian had unwillingly mastered paperwork, growing ever more efficient with each passing day.
But he...
'Not remotely happy about it, damn it!'
All that welled up inside were curses.
Once a noble son blissfully ignorant of profanity, clad in refined elegance—now morphing into a proper laborer.
Damian brimmed with resentment, dying to bolt right then, but sadly...
"Assistant."
Flinch!!
"Y-Yes, sir! Instructor...!"
He shot to his feet on reflex, stuffing his complaints deep down.
No way he could let that man sense any discontent.
The man—Lee Han—approached, dripping sweat pitifully, eyed the mountain of documents Damian was tackling, and...
"Not bad work. Fresh outdoor air really boosts efficiency, huh?"
"......"
"Kidding. Wrap that up quick. Then you'll get your break."
"...This is your job originally, Instructor."
"And?"
"......"
"Eyes look disloyal, Assistant."
"...I'll get to it."
"Good. Quick on the uptake. Wise choice."
"......"
"Don't curse me out in your head."
"...Can't control my own thoughts."
"Wanna test that?"
"...Damn it."
"Hah, you punk. Insolent as hell. Noble thing?"
"Please stop discriminating against nobles!"
Half a year rolling under this instructor.
The phrases he'd heard most often were all like this.
'Noble, huh? Work ethic sucks...' 'Noble? Total asshole.' 'Noble? Filthy glare.'
And so on!
At his prime youth, he already felt anger issues brewing.
Blood pressure spiking constantly— he'd become a regular at the academy's recovery ward.
But the real shocker?
He still had two and a half years of this ahead...
That was the true horror, a nightmare that sent shivers day or night.
Blame the stress?
The recovery priest had put it like this:
- Hmm, lots of stress lately?
- A-Any issues...?
- Showing stress-induced hair loss. At your age...
- ......
- Y-You alright?
- ...Sob.
- C-Crying?
At twenty, he'd developed stress hair loss.
...An absolute nightmare.
'So damn depressing.'
Damian loathed everything as filthy and wretched.
Bang! Crash-!
'Bastard dumps work on me and just trains himself.'
Resentment bubbled up automatically, but rebellion? No chance.
Not just because the man held his lifeline...
'What good's rebelling against that monster?'
Bang! Crunch!!
The sandbag—dozens of heavy iron bars chained together—warped and folded with every blow.
Exactly ten hits, and the chains finally snapped...
Unbelievable, even watching it happen.
"Whew, why's the durability so trash? Bought it trusting this vendor's quality—no dice."
"Doesn't seem like a quality issue..."
"Then what is?"
"...You seriously asking?"
Speechless before the instructor's genuine clueless face.
And a chill ran down his spine.
Not to mention...
'Bulkier now? Nah... just evolved further?'
No illusion: the guy who'd toyed with Pollet Family's vice captain was now even more monstrous after half a year.
Strong.
Beyond measure.
'...Even our family knights charging together wouldn't cut it now.'
As heir to a famed knightly house like Pollet, he took pride in their order—but Damian stayed objective, his eyes sharpened by harsh experiences.
In that sense, the instructor's prowess was way beyond what Pollet knights could handle.
At minimum...
'Might need a major noble house's knight order...?'
Unaware the instructor had already clashed with one, Damian cautiously gauged his strength.
And regretted it all.
Why had he shot his mouth off at orientation, tangling with this monster and landing in this mess?
'Bravado—knight family punk couldn't spot real skill at a glance?! Total moron...!'
And the biggest moron was himself, now doghoused for failing to recognize talent and mouthing off.
Self-loathing curses poured out again.
"......Damn it."
"I hear everything, Assistant."
"......"
"Quit sniveling. Built you a whole boarding room? No rent, steady meals! Can't beat that deal."
"I don't want that deal."
"Tsk tsk. Noble? Belly full, huh."
"Please...!"
A noble just hoping the discrimination would end.
'Gotta grind this trash noble pup—give him an inch, he'll scheme.'
Lee Han wasn't shoving the runt into a doghouse setup just for his own ease.
...Sure, dodging paperwork was a perk—he knew he was exploiting the kid.
But the real harshness stemmed from knowing exactly what kind of guy he was.
Half a year grinding him underfoot revealed Damian as congenitally worthless.
No slacking or mercy—he'd strut and revert if given leeway.
How so certain?
'Seen over a hundred of his type, easy.'
Past-life sergeant who'd dealt with countless deadbeats: obvious.
Yet despite the prickliness, Damian had standout traits: sharp instincts, bare-minimum conscience and morals...
Meaning: redeemable.
Even just hearing his monster incident exploits suggested not pure scum.
'Trash comes in two flavors.'
Ones who shape up under scolding, and those who stay beasts.
In that light...
'This one's salvageable.'
The former was key.
First meeting was ugly, their bond still messy—but familiarity breeds fondness, and as one of his cadets, Lee Han decided to give it a shot.
'Keep grinding.'
Grind him mad, and he'd turn human eventually.
They say even a bear turns human in a hundred days—three years should do it.
'Hmm, papers done? Have him dig a ditch.'
Then...
'Oh, can't dig there—refill it.'
Lee Han had already perfected an unfair grind curriculum for one punk.
Then.
Knock knock.
"Pardon the intrusion, brother."
Something dared interrupt his precious time.
"...Again."
Lee Han's face soured.
Lately, this guy showed up right on schedule—already a headache.
He wore open disdain, but the intruder brushed it off.
"Might we talk today?"
"...No."
"Such a shame."
"......"
"Still, I must insist..."
"...Please leave."
Lee Han eyed the priest forever trying to drag him into faith.
"A 'cardinal' like you shouldn't have time for this."
"Haha, that oversized title's long gone. I'm just a regular believer now—treat me casually."
"......"
...Yeah, casually.
Open foes were easier; kind ones like this were way tougher for a knight.
'...This guy's a heretic inquisitor?'
Ex-cardinal heretic inquisitor: opponent of the highest caliber.
And understandably so.
'One flick, and bones shatter.'
The very picture of a proper adult, the kind that stirred Confucian filial piety and elder respect to new heights.
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