Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 5 – Instructor Lee Han Here
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The Royal Academy was a place for promising young talents between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.
Some called it the Pendragon Academy more often, and it was akin to an officer training school.
Social status meant nothing here. They were simply cadets and students.
What they had done outside held no relevance.
...Except for criminals.
Because of these traits, the academy drew all sorts of people, including countless students from various backgrounds who had enrolled to break free from their class limitations.
However, the academy's exams were brutally difficult, and even getting in was no guarantee of graduating.
Not only did you need to earn enough credits, but failing to meet average scores in certain specialized subjects—or falling below the benchmarks—often led to expulsion.
Average graduation rate: 10%.
Even if a thousand enrolled, you'd rarely see more than a hundred graduate.
Yet, for those who did graduate, the path to high positions in the kingdom opened wide. Even nobles rarely dropped out lightly.
Still, no matter how grueling it was, the freshmen showed no fear. If anything, they brimmed with confidence.
The unshakable belief that their "talent" would see them through to graduation.
And why not? They were the acknowledged prodigies.
Just getting in meant most had been hailed as geniuses or scholars since childhood.
So, arrogantly, they dismissed any worry of expulsion.
...Though their confidence in becoming the top of the class was markedly lacking.
This semester featured an unprecedented cluster of historic geniuses, after all.
For example.
"That's the mage, right?"
"Heard she unlocked her spell world through self-study."
"A true genius."
A beautiful woman with striking golden blonde hair.
Her looks evoked the mystique of an elven fairy from legend, but what truly stood out was the faint, rippling aura of water-like mana emanating from her body.
Mana.
The rare gift of magic that only a select few humans possessed.
A natural blessing, one might say.
Irene Windler.
A commoner and one of just ten mages among the freshmen.
But her talent was so unparalleled among them that everyone took notice.
If the newspaper from yesterday was accurate, even Duke Galahad had taken her as his foster daughter...
So, naturally, all eyes converged on her.
"...Mm."
She didn't seem to enjoy the attention. Irene shyly averted her gaze.
Automatically, the crowd's focus shifted to others.
The Mercenary King's disciple.
The eldest son of the Sword Duke family.
The second daughter of the Prime Minister's house.
The merchant guild heir.
Descendants of mysterious races.
These were undoubtedly the biggest catches of the semester.
"Not to disparage past classes, but this one's not just abundant—it's insane."
"Couldn't agree more."
"The royals are already eyeing some of them."
"Mm-hmm."
"Still, among all these luminaries, I bet that guy's taking top spot this semester."
"Definitely..."
"Agreed."
Even among this dazzling array of talents, one figure shone brightest.
A noble, almost regal air paired with refined features.
The man exuded such overwhelming presence that he resembled a living statue.
Roan Dimitri de Lionel.
The bastard son of the Grand Duke Lionel household. Yet his genius rendered even that status irrelevant.
His skills already rivaled seasoned knights, and he was known for pioneering new frontiers in Fighting Technique.
If gazes on Irene held mystery and awe, those on Roan mixed faint envy with admiration.
Many revealed base desires to surpass him, precisely because of his illegitimate birth.
"-----."
Yet his expression remained utterly composed.
His emotionless face seemed cold at first glance.
As if his entire being declared, 'I'm different from you all.'
That likely made him even less likable to some, but ordinary folk were too busy idolizing him.
Noble blood, overwhelming talent, proven achievements, and top enrollment score.
From commoners to nobles, many watched him with longing eyes.
With the ceremony underway amid these promising cadets who foreshadowed endless drama, it finally began.
'...N-Nervous.'
Irene Windler.
She was trying to hold it together, but her whole body trembled.
And no wonder—she hated this kind of attention.
Deep down, she was like a pampered pet squirrel who just wanted to hole up at home, ignoring the academy or anything else.
That was Irene Windler.
But she had to attend this academy.
The reason? None other than...
[Whoa, Arin! Look at this crowd! So many people, wow...!]
'Shut it. I'm so tense I might puke.'
[You're too timid, Arin. Just enjoy it.]
'You think I'm some extrovert like you?'
[What's an extrovert?]
'Exactly you.'
[...Sometimes you say the weirdest stuff, Arin.]
The noisy voice echoing in Irene Windler's mind.
It belonged to the woman who'd been with her for seven years—the original owner of this body, now her "host."
Anyone overhearing might suspect schizophrenia, but Irene wasn't crazy. She remembered her original world.
That's why she had to return—and give this body back to its rightful owner.
'Damn angel. I'll find you and pluck every last feather!'
Grinding her teeth at the culprit who'd dragged her here.
[But, Arin... not doubting now, but is that you mentioned really at this academy?]
'Yes, definitely! She shows up near the end to help the heroine.'
[Oh, right. The duke's real daughter?]
'Yeah.'
[Hmm, wonder what she's like. Hehe.]
'...Must be nice having such simple thoughts.'
While her head throbbed.
'Everything's followed the original story so far, so the heroine will appear too.'
She'd confirmed it.
The plot was progressing steadily.
So, at the climax, she'd catch the angel—subdue her, threaten her if needed—and learn the way back.
End this messy cohabitation and head toward their respective happy endings.
...Only one issue.
'...Why is the male lead here?'
The one thing Irene couldn't fathom.
A certain man radiating aloof intensity from across the hall.
Roan.
The story's male protagonist. In the original, he should've sparked a bloody rebellion at the Grand Duke's estate and claimed it young.
Yet here he was in the capital—at the academy—instead.
It complicated her thoughts.
Uncertain what butterfly effects this divergence might unleash.
Swipe.
Flinch!
Roan suddenly met her gaze, as if sensing it. Irene quickly ducked her head.
Her scalp prickled like a blade lingered, but she couldn't look.
[Scaredy-cat, Arin.]
'Shut up.'
[Boo, you said a bad word.]
...What an annoying kid.
Five years younger, too. Ugh!
'...Wait, I'm not turning into a nagging old lady.'
Dealing with this brat for seven years had warped her personality.
For the sake of reclaiming her old self—and plucking those damn feathers—she prayed that day would come soon.
'My college entrance exam...!'
She wouldn't give up. Not when revenge burned for the angel who'd yanked a high school senior here the day before her exam.
A test-taker's rage ran deep and hot.
[Hey, Arin! Look, the instructors! Teachers!]
'They're professors, not teachers. Watch your words... Huh?'
Irene blinked.
Up on the podium.
Among the professors introducing themselves, one stood out with an oddly intense vibe.
How to describe it?
Like...
'Why's Tom Hardy in a shoujo manga...?'
Specifically, like one of his mafia roles from the movies.
And she wasn't alone— the crowd fell silent.
...As if the genre had shifted in an instant.
'...Did I mess up the outfit?'
They'd said to dress neatly, so he'd gone with a tailored tux.
Not a party, though, so he'd opted for suit-like attire.
Clean and proper.
Slicked his hair with pomade too—felt pretty good.
Not sloppy, and first impressions should be solid.
Just... tight.
Not fat—muscles had bulked up lately, hugging arms to chest snugly.
Luckily, the tailor had added stretch. No bursting.
Still felt off.
'Didn't expect casual wear...'
Everyone else was just neat and simple.
Few in dresses or tuxes—mostly light, comfortable clothes.
He felt overdressed, and the hush as he took the podium proved it.
...Burn this thing when I get home.
'Let's wrap this quick.'
Lee Han faced forward.
Locking eyes solely on Roan.
Simple reason.
Needed to leave a strong impression on him. Focusing on one target steadied his gaze better than scattering it.
He unfolded his scribbled notes for a quick intro...
"Hmph. A disgraced knight showing his face so shamelessly."
Crack...!
Suddenly, the hall fell into a different kind of silence.
The culprit, realizing how loud he'd been, clamped his mouth shut.
Lee Han grinned wide.
'...Screw the script. Not my style.'
Do it my way.
Crunch.
The podium splintered.