Chapter 334
Chapter 334
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 70 – Why the Knight's Disgust is Justified (3)
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The royal banquet season was in full swing, with only ten days left until the crown heir's first birthday celebration.
Despite this, the capital was still groaning under a barrage of problems, like indigestion from the waves of crowds flooding in from every region. But even amid the chaos, daily life marched on.
The restaurant chef bought fresh ingredients at the market, the shoemaker toiled away at commissioned footwear without a break, and some boy dreaming of becoming a future tycoon dashed frantically through the streets earning coin.
No fools neglected their routines just because a special day loomed.
And this...
"-15 minutes left."
...applied to the academy as well.
Even with nobles pouring in and banquets or tea parties in full swing everywhere, education never halted. Classes proceeded as normal.
Ah, more than classes, perhaps.
"Those who flunk this exam get penalty points. Remember that."
"You're too much!?"
"A pop quiz out of nowhere?!!"
"But I'm wrapping up the lecture early instead? You should be grateful for that alone. Why so many whiners?"
It bordered on tormenting the cadets.
"5 minutes left."
"!!?"
Even if everyone else threw ragers, a student's duty was to study.
The Royal Academy lived up to its name as a hall of learning, pressing on with lectures despite the banquet frenzy.
No, they were even more ruthless than usual, hitting them with pop quizzes and docking penalty points—or straight-up expelling—anyone who didn't clear the score threshold.
These daily quizzes had already booted cadets who blew off studying for nightly parties under the guise of "faithfully burning their youth." It happened less than a fortnight after term start—harsh, sure, but par for the academy's course.
- Play all you want. But failing basics while partying? Can't wrap my head around it. Think you can graduate slacking off? Bold! Show me that confidence's source, heh heh.
The dean's words, lips smiling but eyes stone-cold.
...Well, "torment" or not, the quizzes were just a notch above entrance exams. Plenty solvable even by underclassmen from the middle division if they prepped right.
Bottom line: Nail the basics, no sweat.
Yet bombing below average?
That screamed zero growth since enrollment. Or worse, fueled suspicions of shady entry methods. No pity for dropouts.
They ought to feel shame. Realize the academy wasn't a cakewalk.
Handy for culling the incompetent and lazy.
Amid all this...
"Whoa, swordsmanship department's brutal? Last year, all 80 newbies passed. This year? Down to twelve."
"13 out of 130. Extreme as always..."
The swordsmanship department axed 90% of its freshmen. Onlookers were horrified.
Last year: zero dropouts or quits, full promotion. This year: ruthless purge.
Granted, only a handful knew the expellees were spies or shady types, so it was all misunderstanding...
"Why are my ears itching like crazy?"
To the clueless, it just drew suspicious stares.
"Expellees cursing us?"
"You're catching more heat as TA, no?"
"...Ears've been driving me nuts lately. Headaches too."
"Sounds like a curse."
"......"
"Know a good shaman or priest?"
"...Rot."
Lee Han nodded along to the TA's playful(?) banter when sudden chick-chatter caught his ear.
"You hear the rumor? Super hot young lord hit the capital lately. Name's Santa or something?"
"Hotter than Lord Roan?"
"Same league, they say. Roan's icy vibe, but this guy's all smiles and cheer?"
"...Oh my."
...So that's why my ears itch?
Lee Han scratched his nape on the sly.
Somehow felt like leading a double life.
'Gotta keep it airtight.'
Exposure wouldn't be catastrophic, but no upside to leaks.
Wanted the Santa guise low-key.
'Already headaches piling up. Better lay low.'
Rumor had it Mordred—no, Wales—was hyping a new holiday.
Odd mashup of Christmas as he knew it and Buddha's birthday. Floating lotus lanterns on rivers from a set date, gifts for good kids...
'Where do they get off with this mongrel fest?'
[Santa Descent Day] or whatever.
The kicker: it honored him—Santa Ri Han exactly. Lee Han's head throbbed.
Idol worship flat-out. If outed as the star, temples and palace would erupt.
Extremists might even nail him to a cross...
'I'd flip it on them.'
Trouble's trouble, though.
Lee Han wanted zero part of it. Just stay stealthy on identity.
Good news: Mordred folk kept schtum. Loyalty strong.
But another headache...
- Waaahhh...! Santa, don't go! Waaahhh...!!
That pink-haired tyke's parting wails—and grudge—gave him migraines.
"Hmmm."
"What's up, master?"
"...Bear Soon-ah."
"Yessir?"
"Got this super young friend, kid stuff."
"?"
"Not on purpose, but made 'em bawl at goodbye. Real pitiful sobs."
"Oh dear."
"Accident. Now word is, kid's headed to the capital."
"......"
"...Kid's young. Probably forgot me by now?"
"Doubt it."
"Huh?"
Levi dropped it firm, dead certain.
"Five? Ten? Even a three-year-old wouldn't forget you easy."
"Mm, yeah. Hard-to-forget look."
"And a 'friend'? Master I know doesn't leave friends crying. You'd feel bad."
"...You know way too much."
"Basics."
Lee Han gave a wry smile, pondering a preemptive gift for the meet.
To soothe the pouty pink moppet.
"Tough..."
"Not buying it's just that wearing you down."
"?"
"Master, swamped with something else lately? Shady crew vibes."
"......"
"Knew it."
...Didn't spill a word. How's she piercing it?
"Just my guess, but you stepping up means those shady types are gunning for the capital."
"No..."
"Noble council won't budge. Fools claim your blood-sweat peace as their win. Leaves you grinding solo."
"......"
"Master, don't shoulder it all. You've got backup. Me included."
"......"
"Master?"
"L-listen."
"Yes."
"Mind reading. Where'd you learn?"
"??"
Grateful for the apprentice's care, yet spooked...
Ghostly spot-on.
The Blood Cross Crusaders weren't some deep secret.
Any literate sort skimming papers knew shady groups ran rampant. Nobles? They knew best.
Thus, most swordsmanship cadets clocked the Crusaders' existence—and vaguely pegged them for last year's monster terror too.
So why hadn't Lee Han spilled?
Partly: let adults handle, kids stay out. But mostly, couldn't douse the fire of youth.
However...
"Terror likely during debutante season. Stay sharp."
"...??"
"We're blocking hard, but they burrow like moles. Tough catches. Support? Noble council ghosts us. So..."
"......"
"Hope you survive whatever hits."
"???"
Unaware hits different from clued-in. Lee Han laid truth bare.
Movies teach: hide it, reveal later? Resentment brews.
No needless grudges here—he spilled clean. Cadets faced truth...
"Didn't wanna know..."
"Damn noble council pricks! Parents and sibs all up in the capital—what the hell?!"
"...Just got a new dress fitted."
...with hollow mutters.
Life's futility. Disciples swigged bitterness early. Lee Han waited serene for their daze to lift.
"I-instructor, safe to drop that openly?"
Gray-haired boy Derek, who'd ghosted his presence, sidled up whispering wary.
Too blatant?
"Safe. Better to. Gut says those fanatics hit the banquet for sure."
"Aren't you already hunting 'em?"
Derek: If you willed it, fanatics easy pickings?
Lee Han warmed to the trust, but kept reality check.
And then,
"...Situation's gone sideways."
"Huh...?"
Rare peeved look from Lee Han.
What was it—recalling something vile? Like spotting nail gunk first thing AM.
Sure enough, his "gunk" was.
"Not just one."
"?"
"Fanatics' cronies? Not a couple."
"...Huh?"
Derek parroted.
Not incomprehension—unbelievable.
Lee Han whispered, minding rattled disciples. Off-record vibes.
"Minimum hundred."
"??"
"...Hundred-plus noble houses in bed with fanatics."
"......"
"Wild, right?"
"......"
...Derek froze catatonic, zoning out forever.