Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.8 – The Knight Acquired a Teaching Assistant (2)
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Squires were a notorious custom.
Why were they notorious?
Simple. It was an absurdly unreasonable custom.
It started as a title given by free knights to the disciples they took in, but who in this day and age would become a disciple of a free knight?
They called themselves free knights, but they were no different from thugs—straight-up criminals.
However, naive boys from rural villages, unaware of this, would inevitably fall head over heels for a free knight's promise to take them as a disciple.
And that was how their life as slaves began, despite the mere title of squire.
Not only cleaning, laundry, and cooking,
they also had to earn money for the knight's entertainment, and sometimes take out loans to maintain his dignity.
In the squire's name, no less.
As a result, most squires ended up drowning in debt.
Of course, most tried to run away before becoming indebted, but some couldn't escape.
A free knight was still a knight, and being thugs, they had no qualms about killing.
That's why the free knight system was abolished.
No villainy like that from villains.
Yet, strangely, the squire system itself remained unabolished.
According to the nobles, it was the free knights who were at fault, not the knights from prestigious families.
...What nonsense.
He had seen it countless times: knights from prestigious families treating their squires worse than servants.
Yes, like slaves.
That's why, if there was ever an ignorant young lamb hoping to become a squire, he gladly offered them guidance.
"It's not what you think it is."
However.
'What does it mean when someone who knows everything still wants to become a squire?'
1. They're insane.
2. They're a pervert who enjoys pain and hardship.
3. Or both.
......Hmm, tricky.
Tricky problem.
So.
"...Where should I hit you?"
"Pardon?"
"Where do I need to hit you to fix you? Think seriously and tell me. Since I seem to have broken you, I'll gladly repair it."
"......"
Crack, pop.
Lee Han lightly cracked his knuckles, preparing to smack the back or front of the guy's head.
If hitting him with a desk yesterday was the problem, then hitting him differently would solve it.
He'd thrown the desk with a curve yesterday, so maybe a slider this time?
They had bad blood, but this guy was still part of the swordsmanship department.
Even if he was just a nominal instructor, didn't he have a duty to straighten out the cadets' heads?
'If it doesn't work, oh well.'
As Lee Han casually scanned the surroundings for a suitable rock,
the guy still kneeling spoke up.
"Th-that's not it, sir. Th-there seems to be a misunderstanding. I'm not crazy!"
"Not crazy, yet you say that? ...Isn't that even more of a problem?"
"Th-that's..."
He seemed to realize his excuse was pretty pathetic, as Damian fell silent.
And then.
"I-I think I misspoke."
In his haste, he hadn't explained the background before declaring he'd become a squire, so he had no room to complain about the treatment.
Humbly accepting it, Damian added an explanation.
"My father—no, the family head—commanded me to serve Sir Ri Han."
"...?"
...Why?
Lee Han tilted his head, questioning with his eyes.
He'd heard a lot.
Stories of the baron changing overnight, of the knight order and the eldest son who had raised their voices to him now walking on thin ice.
Elders stepping in personally to restore family discipline.
The disgraced youngest son who had tarnished the family's reputation finally struck from the family registry.
And to return to the family, he had to seek forgiveness from a certain knight first.
Yeah, he'd heard a lot, but in conclusion.
"If you want forgiveness, either cut out that insolent tongue of yours, or bring me the head of the knight who came at me. That much, I'll forgive."
"......"
"Choose either."
"......"
"Don't like it? Fine, then. Get lost. Seeing your face makes me sick."
Lee Han spat out his contempt and sneer without mercy.
As if he'd expected him to fail anyway.
...At that moment.
"I-I'll cut it."
"...Cut what?"
"M-my tongue. W-will you take me as your squire then?"
"......"
"I'll take that as a yes."
Snip.
In an instant, Damian pulled out scissors from somewhere in his robes—he must have prepared them in advance.
They were quite sharp, and he went straight for...!
Thwack!
"Kek!"
"Cut blindly like that, and you'll bleed out. Trying to frame me for murder?"
"Kek! Uuugh!"
Damian, kicked in the face, groaned in pain but barely stood.
However, Lee Han continued without a hint of apology.
"Tch. Doesn't your family teach you even the basics?"
"...Who teaches that kind of thing?"
Damian slurred his response.
Blood pooled in his mouth; his tongue was partially severed.
To such a Damian, Lee Han tossed a low-grade potion he carried for emergencies.
"C-can I drink this?"
Damian caught the vial in a daze, and Lee Han nodded.
"...Thank you."
Of course, being low-grade, it wouldn't heal his tongue instantly.
But it would serve as first aid, and as a practitioner of Fighting Technique, he'd recover on his own in a week.
Watching such a guy,
"If you'd done that to appeal to my sympathy, I'd have torn your body and head apart, even if it meant fighting the baron. I'd think you were mocking me again."
"...Yes."
In other words, he'd saved him because it was genuine.
"Why carry scissors?"
"I figured you'd demand some price from me. I was prepared to lose a finger or an ear."
"You want it that badly?"
"If it means returning to the family, I don't care."
"...I see."
"Yes."
...What a ridiculous guy.
Until moments ago, he'd seemed like a mere loudmouth thug, but he had some guts.
Not a type he disliked.
However,
'Doesn't mean I like this bastard.'
It's hard to view positively someone you've once disliked.
Besides, this guy wasn't truly seeking forgiveness; he was just doing this to cling to his noble status.
No reason to think well of him.
Still, no contempt either.
Even in a remote village with nothing, people schemed for a mere village head position.
Or hanged themselves after losing it, despite having plenty of money.
Losing power was the worst agony.
That's why power was terrifying, and for someone like him,
'Best to stay far away.'
Lee Han gazed down at him impassively, and Damian's pupils trembled nonstop.
Still tense.
To such a one,
"You can just go. No need for squire or assistant duties. I forgive you."
"......"
"...Good job. If you'd accepted my words at face value, I'd have gone to the baron myself. Told him never to forgive you."
"...Yes."
Seeing his unusually pale face, his heart must have wavered.
But suppressing the temptation had been fortunate.
That sliver of doubt had barely saved him.
Feeling amused by Damian again, Lee Han didn't let his lips curl up. Instead, he held up three fingers.
"3 years. Serve me for 3 years. Inside or outside the academy, whenever I need you, I'll call."
"Y-you won't take me as a squire?"
"I'm in no position to take disciples. Instead, I'll take you as a 'teaching assistant.' Satisfied? You wouldn't like being my squire anyway."
"...I won't deny it."
"I like your honesty. -Follow me, teaching assistant. Classes start today."
"Understood, sir!"
"Not sir—instructor. For 3 years, I'll call you teaching assistant, not by name."
"......Ugh."
"Answer."
"...Yes, Instructor."
"Good, you listen well."
Lee Han turned, and Damian, finally grasping his lifeline, sighed deeply with a tearful face.
He thought,
'...Ah, I want to go back to the entrance ceremony.'
Beat up that past self.
Damian Pollet—no, now Lee Han's teaching assistant—felt his eyes growing moist.
His future already seemed pitch black.
And sure enough.
"Bring water and towels for 80 people generously. And whatever else you think we need."
"Wh-what about money...?"
"Use my name to get academy support. Or pay from your pocket."
"......"
"Any complaints?"
"...None, damn it."
"Too chatty, teaching assistant."
"......Sob."
Damian finally sobbed.
The cadets were briefly startled by Damian but soon lost interest.
Half had quickly gauged the situation, the other half just didn't care.
They were busy enough with their own affairs.
Lee Han liked these selfish cadets.
No need for pointless explanations.
As he subtly checked the cadets' faces, Lee Han nodded.
'Not one looks like they'll listen well.'
Someone once said physiognomy is science.
Lee Han agreed.
Look at those faces—reeking of the deadbeats he'd seen in the military.
They screamed they wouldn't obey easily.
'They don't like me, obviously.'
He understood.
If he were them, seeing an instructor demoted from the knight order and causing a scene at the entrance ceremony—what would he think?
Of course he'd dislike him.
...But.
"Before I introduce myself and greet you, I have a proposal for the cadets."
-...?
"Any cadets doubting this instructor's skills, draw your weapons now. I'll face you all. Oh, and for reference."
-......
"If any cadet defeats this instructor, I'll grant you the chance to train under Baltar Grace. I swear this on the name of the White Silver Lion Knights."
Shing!
"Excellent."
The next moment, half the cadets drew their weapons without hesitation and charged at Lee Han with killing intent.
Hmph.
—Yes, but.
Just as they disliked him, he had no reason to like those who hated him.
Above all, he had zero intention of spending time bonding with them.
Rather,
'Plenty of dummies. Nice.'
His lips curved into a smile at the many 'dummies' to replace this morning's sadly destroyed sparring dummy.
Each looked sturdier than the ragdolls he'd made.
Lee Han was pleased.