Chapter 43
Chapter 43
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.13 – The Fair Instructor (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
He hated discrimination.
Was it because he'd lived a life filled with so much discrimination?
Representatively, just because he was the division commander's son, the lowest of the lowest private had rocketed through promotions at breakneck speed.
Conversely, there was the history of serving for ten long years yet remaining a perennial sergeant, passed over for promotion for the most absurd reasons.
Having suffered so much that it seeped into his very bones, he had come to value fairness to an absolute degree when dealing with others.
As a result, he had no intention of giving special treatment to the sprout squad just because they were from the lower classes. Nor would he neglect them simply for being nobles' children.
Fairness meant treating everyone exactly the same.
Thus.
"-Alright, let's give it our all again today."
"……."
Lee Han was at the Royal Academy.
All fifty-four cadets from the swordsmanship department who had stayed behind at the academy instead of heading to Vulcan stared at their instructor with utter disbelief.
...What was this? A dream?
"...I-Instructor."
"Speak, Chick No. 3."
"Um, well. W-We heard you were going all the way to Vulcan for training."
"That's right."
"A-And the distance between Vulcan and the academy is 40 kilometers, as far as I know."
"Precisely 37.9 kilometers."
"R-Right."
No, that's not the point right now!
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at Vulcan?"
"To teach you lot."
"...What about Vulcan?"
"I beat them up during the day and came back. I'll teach you now, then head back at night to beat them up some more—or rather, train them."
"……."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"...Nothing. I just thought you were an unusual person, as expected."
"Everything's unusual these days. I'm just diligent."
"Haha..."
Well, how could someone who ran 75.8 kilometers round trip just to not miss a class not be diligent?
Faced with a reality she couldn't argue against, the female cadet dubbed a chick let out a hollow laugh.
...It was a bit late to mention this, but the news of Lee Han and Odwal holding a war game had caused a massive uproar.
In academy history, the swordsmanship and magic departments had always been on hostile terms, but even so, there had never been such a direct clash.
However, the war game was already underway and the word had spread far and wide, with even the nobles anticipating it. The academy had no choice but to let it proceed.
The justification and momentum had spiraled beyond control. And because of this, Lee Han had been summoned back to the dean's office.
He got an earful.
How many incidents was he going to cause in just the first semester?
Of course, he had plenty of rebuttals.
The spellcasters had picked the fight first, and started it over ridiculous nitpicks.
So he stood tall and proud, while the dean rubbed his stiff neck and shook his head.
...And yet, seeing how the dean still funded activity expenses for the cadets, he really was the dean through and through.
'After dealing with nothing but crooked instructors, meeting a real educator like this feels pretty good.'
However, the dean's face, despite shelling out a fortune, showed no great expectations.
It was clear he thought the swordsmanship department would lose the war game.
And this wasn't just the dean—the sentiment permeated the entire academy.
As if the outcome was already set in stone.
"Can't be helped. In a war game, warriors are like pawns in chess. Even seasoned ones get treated like bishops at best, while mages are queens or knights."
"Warriors get the short end of the stick. Narrow-minded folks."
"...What can you do when history proves it?"
"That's because the weaklings they've sent were pathetic."
"Compared to you, Instructor, is there even anyone who's not weak?"
"I'm relatively weak myself."
"……."
One cadet crumpled in the most ridiculous expression he'd worn all year, as if he'd heard the most absurd thing yet.
No, perhaps the grimace was more from the agony than the nonsense.
"Guhhh..."
"Urgh!"
"Gahk! Ack...!"
Cadets were collapsing everywhere or dry-heaving.
Instead of jumping rope, they'd done unlimited free sparring with the instructor—and the entire group had been slammed to the ground, writhing in pain.
Oddly enough, though, no one was seriously injured.
They'd been thrown down hard, but the instructor had pulled his strength at the last moment.
...Which somehow felt even more humiliating.
"I didn't go easy to humiliate you. The recovery room priests begged me to stop sending them more kids."
"...There are a lot of injuries, yeah."
"I-Instructor. Did you really run back from Vulcan?"
"How do you even have the energy..."
Watching this man who had effortlessly defeated them all without a hint of excitement, it was hard to believe he'd lost even a bit of stamina.
"You're right, I'm less energetic than usual. Even an instructor gets winded running that distance round trip. But why would I struggle against 'rookies'?"
"……."
"Feeling frustrated? Then work harder to get stronger. Your instructor will do his best to teach you."
"……."
"Why the look?"
"...Just curious. Why didn't someone as passionate as you take us to Vulcan?"
"You mean the special intensive training?"
"……."
"Hmm, like I said before, anyone who wanted to go was told to assemble on departure day. But none of you showed up."
"...That's."
The cadet, unwittingly revealing her disappointment, bit her lip, knowing it was childish defiance.
But she couldn't help it.
They hadn't stayed away because they didn't want to go.
"W-What could we do when our families told us not to go?"
"Adults still tied to mommy and daddy's apron strings?"
"...!"
"Haha, kidding. You think I don't get your situations?"
There were probably some among them who had wanted to attend Lee Han's intensive seminar.
Especially those who had felt their bodies growing stronger through his training.
They had started acknowledging him, consciously or not, as an excellent instructor.
...But they were nobles.
People who lived by authority and honor, in a class society where status, connections, and bloodlines mattered above all.
Thus, they could never defy their families' orders.
"Hah, some of you here have probably already been told not to attend my classes. They'd see it as a stain on the family to attend lessons from some lowborn knight."
"……."
"I'm not mad. Doesn't bother me. You think I wouldn't know, coming from the knights?"
He was, after all, the official outcast of the White Silver Lion Knights.
He was sick of nobles' sense of privilege.
Though more had shown it only to get beaten by him.
"I understand you. Nobles don't allow foreign elements to mix into their history."
Some cadets probably wanted to learn Aura.
It was impressive enough, after all.
But their noble houses would never permit it.
Nobles whose pride in their centuries-old fighting techniques and skills pierced the heavens.
In that sense, Lee Han's techniques were something deviant.
In martial world terms, noble houses were orthodox sects, while Lee Han's skills would be treated like those of the unorthodox, demonic cults—or worse, demonic arts.
Learning them might make you a public enemy in the martial world—or get you disowned.
'Not all of them, though.'
Mainly Arno and Roan.
Both heirs to grand noble houses, yet relatively free-spirited.
Arno had no qualms absorbing techniques from other houses like Offen or Gaya, and Roan ignored his family entirely, so he had no hesitation in learning from him.
Damian?
That was just rolling him around.
In other words, those begging for Lee Han's teachings now were either those with nowhere else to turn or those who ignored others' opinions entirely.
These ones were different.
So they felt resentful.
They wanted to learn too, harbored some rebellion against their families—but in the end, couldn't defy orders.
"Some of you probably wished I'd drag you to Vulcan for training by force."
"...Ahem."
"But I can't do that. The training I'm doing at Vulcan now is for desperate folks. Even if I'd dragged you there, you wouldn't have seen much gain. How can someone busy worrying about a bunch of things be desperate?"
"……."
"Still, if it felt like I was giving others special treatment, your instructor apologizes for that. Wasn't intentional."
"...We're the ones who should apologize."
Average age nineteen or twenty.
Adults by age, but not truly mature.
Still green, prone to whining.
Understanding that was the duty of an adult.
It was Lee Han's sincere apology, and they felt an unjust swell of emotion.
"Thanks for understanding."
The atmosphere turned somehow touching, warmly fuzzy.
Lee Han.
"In that spirit, your instructor will graciously spar with you again. Come at me."
"......Pardon?"
"I gave the others special treatment, so you need special training too. This chance won't come easy. Get up quick."
"……."
The touching moment shattered to pieces.
(By the way, not that it matters much, but Lee Han's previous life MBTI was T-type.)
...It seemed he'd end up overworking the recovery room priests again today.
But Lee Han felt proud!
A true educator's actions, perhaps?
'All those guys in my past life who said I lacked empathy were wrong. How is this not perfect empathy?'
They wanted to grow, so he'd done his utmost to teach them toward that goal.
The textbook definition of empathy.
Brimming with satisfaction, he now felt duty-bound to double down on the night training group.
'What else to add to the night training?'
Individual combat and cliff climbing, maybe.
His mind buzzed with ideas, and as it did, the sprout squad faced a night of nightmares.
Excessive diligence could be poisonous.
A sudden halt.
"...?"
As he took a step, Lee Han's sharp senses picked up something unfamiliar.
"This is..."
What caught his attention was the lone scarecrow in the training grounds.
A straw dummy for sword practice, but unused since he'd become the swordsmanship instructor.
He preferred live combat over hitting dummies.
Thus, the scarecrow had become mere decoration, ignored even by cadets.
Yet his keen senses detected a subtle difference from its usual state.
"Spot the difference?"
Not just decoration after all—a ragged cloth hung around the dummy's neck.
It hadn't been there before. Muttering about some prankster, Lee Han casually untied the loose cloth and held it.
"...Ho."
A faint smile crept onto his face.
Whoever it was.
"A classic throwback, eh?"
A single line was scrawled on the cloth.
Like something straight out of an old theatrical play—pure classic.
However cliché the method...
"Hmm, 'You must not kill mages,' huh... This bastard."
It pierced straight through his unspoken thoughts—content too intriguing to ignore.