Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.11 – The Knight Hates Spellcasters (2)
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After finally wrapping up his hour-long speech at the 120-minute mark, the dean stepped down, and the faculty members applauded sincerely at last being able to escape the so-called "meeting" in the lecture hall.
With the dean beaming inwardly in satisfaction behind them, the faculty dispersed, though a few groups formed here and there to chat.
Since they were from different departments, it wasn't often they crossed paths, so they were probably taking the chance to get familiar with each other's faces.
And Lee Han, who had inwardly resigned himself to a life of isolation, was fortunate that Hans—whom he'd coincidentally become acquainted with—was such a kind soul.
Kind enough to introduce him even to the prickly types.
"This is Dorothy. Art department instructor, specializing in religious paintings."
"Call me Kam. Just a fallen noble teaching statistics."
"Den from architecture. Overqualified for professor, heh heh."
"Arlen de Wagner. Musty old history professor. Call me Arlen."
They were all Hans's acquaintances, downplaying themselves as nobodies, but he knew they were heavyweights.
Lee Han wasn't one for newspapers, but his one friend in the knights' order occasionally filled him in on current events, and these names popped up like regulars.
"An honor to meet a rising star painter. Even if it's a failure later, let me buy one someday, Dorothy."
"Oh my?"
The promising young female artist everyone had high hopes for.
"Can't just dismiss the guy who turned down a royal summons as a mere fallen noble, can we, Kam?"
"Ho ho."
The young scholar even the royals coveted.
"Heard plenty about the master who led the capital's reconstruction, Den. And calling the legendary archaeologist who risked his life digging up Britannia relics 'musty'? That'd make you a lunatic, Professor Arlen."
"Heh heh, you're making me blush."
"Doesn't look it, but you've got some real insight."
Even the giants who'd made names for themselves before he was born.
No average noble could build connections like these. Fame in their fields meant prestige and integrity.
The guilds probably had them under constant protection as key figures.
"Glad to hear it. Worth the intro."
And topping it off, Hans—the heavyweight artisan who'd introduced them all.
'Birds of a feather...'
The old saying rang true once more. A dream team that left him speechless.
"For a soldier who only knows swinging a sword, these are too big a league."
"Ha ha! Who's calling who humble? Anyone who calls a White Silver Lion Knight a mere civil servant is nuts, right?"
"Spot on."
"As you said, I'll give you a painting. As a token of goodwill."
Of course, even to them, knights weren't pushovers.
Especially one from the White Silver Lions, which made him loom even larger.
Sure, he'd been demoted to instructor, but no one dared dismiss him for it.
He'd already shown it, hadn't he?
The skill that overwhelmed the vice commander of the famed Pollet Knights in the arena.
But beyond that, they were genuinely good-hearted and generous souls.
Not chasing fame or power—just diligent in their fields until fame found them.
So, just because Hans—a friend—introduced him, they showed excessive goodwill.
Unless Lee Han backstabbed them first, they'd never see him through colored glasses.
'...I owe them big.'
More than their status, their decency won him over, and he felt deeply indebted to Hans for the hookup.
Goods could be bought with money, but goodwill and connections? Not so much.
'Gotta repay it someday.'
He could act like a scumbag around trash worse than animals, but with upright folks, he should approach as one himself.
And so, Lee Han and the faculty decided to grab a simple tea time at a café after quick introductions.
For the record, no kingdom café served iced coffee.
Espresso, herbal tea, or black tea only.
You could ask for ice in your coffee, but it'd earn scornful glares from all sides, so he held back.
Just as he felt a pang of regret inwardly.
"—Mind if I interrupt?"
"Oh, Lord Odwal."
"I'll take that as permission."
"Uh..."
The atmosphere, soft until then, grew tense at the thug's aggressive tone, as if the answer was already decided.
His looks were prickly, exuding a stubborn refusal to hear others out.
The faculty couldn't hide their regret at stepping in something, but he ignored their expressions entirely.
A man devoid of any tact.
And he turned to Lee Han.
"Stay away from Irene Windler, that pure genius. This isn't a request or advice—it's a warning. If you taint her talent even slightly... you won't know what I'll do."
He delivered a polite "threat," not hiding his vicious hostility.
As if even talking to a knight disgusted him.
And to that...
"Hey, old spellcaster."
"!!?"
"Can't make heads or tails of your bullshit, so repeat it? Cut the crap and spell it out so I get it. Don't just jump to conclusions on your own."
He spat back with contempt matching the mage's hostility, no holds barred.
"And back off when you talk. How long since you brushed? You're filthy."
"!!!"
"What? Gonna try me?"
Lee Han provoked again, inwardly hoping.
For the guy to draw his staff.
That way...
'Been a while since I got to beat a mage.'
He'd have the perfect excuse.
Just thinking about it, he flashed the brightest, most innocent smile.
…Though it'd feel anything but innocent to the target.
...Unfortunately, the mage just left.
He seemed like he'd bite if provoked more, but with his new friends around, Lee Han swallowed his tears and held back.
And now.
"Shouldn't have brushed off Lord Odwal like that, ugh..."
Hans and the others showed genuine worry.
Ever since arriving at the café, the concern kept coming his way.
Not for their own safety, but clearly for him.
Worrying over someone they'd just met today with such sincere eyes... what normal friends.
'Cool. So cool.'
Didn't regret covering the tea and desserts.
He'd bought them as an apology for souring the mood, and sipping his hot chocolate—replenishing today's sugar—he continued firmly.
"I'll take full responsibility. Whether it blows up into a fight or escalates. No harm will come to any of you, so don't worry."
"No, that's not what we meant."
"I know, you're concerned. But really, no need. I'm tougher than I look."
"...That old man's not someone toughness alone can handle. He's terrifying."
Hans probably pictured a different kind of "tough" than Lee Han meant, but unaware, he could only sigh heavily.
"What scheme is Lord Odwal plotting now..."
Odwal Bernard.
The mage who'd approached Lee Han like he was picking a fight moments ago—and the one all faculty tiptoed around.
Why avoid him?
Because he was a mage.
Mages.
Those blessed from birth with mana, dubbed the chosen of providence.
Beings who formed a "spell world" with mana, bending even nature's laws—beyond common sense.
And since common sense didn't apply, mages terrified people just by existing.
Who knew what calamity entanglement might bring?
"Well, your line back there was refreshing, Instructor."
But fear was fear, and few had positive views of mages.
They were arrogant by nature.
"A crusty old grouch."
"Shouldn't badmouth behind backs, but hard to deny."
"Beyond grouchy—downright explosive."
Mages scorned and despised the mana-less, flaunted their uniqueness, and demanded deference.
They ignored nobles and royals alike, and blasphemed even the gods without restraint.
Sure, the truly rotten ones usually vanished quietly after making enemies.
Even if Odwal wasn't the worst offender, his mage arrogance was plain.
Case in point: one infamous incident.
"Six years ago at matriculation, he went berserk with fireballs. Because a regular cadet coughed during his intro."
"...That was you, Senior."
"Different from your case, Sir Turtle. His was pure violence."
Nothing like Lee Han's stunt—pointless brutality over a mere dislike.
Several cadets injured, auditorium half-burned...
Criminal, no exaggeration.
"Not to speak out of turn, but why's a guy like that still at the academy? Looks more suited to a cell."
"...Hmm."
The faculty fell silent here.
They secretly agreed, and he'd nailed it.
"Sigh, mages are rare talents. Irreplaceable manpower. Personality aside, they get a pass unless they straight-up murder."
Made sense on the surface, but Lee Han shook his head.
"That's the official line. What's the real reason?"
"...People often say you read the room better than you look?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Ha ha."
Hans found the knight's frankness refreshing.
Not noble-born, maybe? No thorns in his words—just blunt.
Like dealing with guild craftsmen.
'Good call building ties.'
He had a wild side, but knew boundaries.
"...Lord Odwal has many noble backers. Some pour massive academy donations yearly. Can't just boot him."
"Hilarious old coot."
Despises the mana-less, but needs patrons, huh?
Even funnier: nobles sponsoring him.
What were they thinking?
"Anyway, Sir Turtle. Be careful. We know you're strong, but he's dangerous. Could threaten you somehow."
Sincere advice for him. Lee Han wanted to say no worries, but didn't brush off serious counsel lightly.
"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind. But..."
"?"
"Hmm, this is like my secret talent. Keep it between us—only a few know."
"What...?"
"My secret talent is..."
He said it with utter sincerity.
Confident no one could match him at it.
"Turning lunatics nice."
"??"
"Ha ha, just remember that."
Know what?
Even crazies have a trick to make 'em nice?
Simple.
'They get nice when they can't breathe.'
Ah.
Best if the heart stops too.