Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.17 – Irene Windler Is a Villainess? (2)
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It was a chance(?) encounter between the two, but Lee Han wasn't so poorly raised that he couldn't show some courtesy to the woman who'd approached him with courage.
"Well, since we've run into each other by chance, it's fate. Let's wander around together, Chick No. 2."
"Can't you just call me by name?"
"...What was your name again?"
"?!"
"Just kidding, Cadet Irene."
"Instructor, that sounded so genuine I couldn't take it as a joke."
"I'm not that much of a trash heap."
"Hehe, I was kidding too."
"Ouch, you got me."
Though it started awkwardly, the knight and the girl's conversation never ran dry.
They were neighbors, after all.
Seeing each other's faces so often made any awkwardness between them downright silly.
However, if there was even a hint of awkwardness between them...
"Chatting like this at the academy feels a bit strange."
"Outside, we're neighbors, but here, I'm your instructor and you're a cadet."
"Yeah, true."
...it was probably the tension from their instructor-cadet relationship.
Irene Windler nodded in agreement with Lee Han's words, but today felt like a day they could ignore that priest-congregant dynamic.
It was exam period, after all.
All departments had suspended classes, and even instructors, lecturers, and professors weren't meddling with cadets.
...Which was why Irene had mustered the courage to approach him first.
Hmm, b-but it doesn't look like a guy-girl thing, right?
As a romance newbie, she was overly conscious of others' gazes.
Worried they'd look like fresh lovebirds.
And if they really came across that way...
I-it'd be a little embarrassing.
Irene Windler's cheeks flushed red, like they'd been dyed with impatiens water.
...Unfortunately for her, though.
"Oh, it's Lady Irene. Who's that with her? Bodyguard knight?"
"More like a mercenary, right? Though with Galahad's status, they'd have escorts."
"Huh? Isn't that the swordsmanship department instructor?"
"Oh yeah! Did the Galahad family ask him to guard her?"
"Maybe."
To everyone else, they didn't look like a couple at all.
How to put this.
"Wow, seeing them together like that, it's just..."
"The art styles don't match?"
"Exactly..."
One side straight out of a shojo manga, the other radiating post-apocalyptic vibes...
The cadets shot them peculiar looks, figuring there couldn't be a more mismatched pair.
Lee Han didn't even need to come to the academy today.
During the two-week evaluation period, most faculty rested at home or handled paperwork.
It was more prep time than break, so instructors should be somewhat busy, but...
- Wh-why me!
In Lee Han's case, a screaming assistant handled everything, leaving him with overflowing free time.
He was glad he'd snagged such a good slave—er, assistant.
So, during this precious break, Lee Han threw himself into training while wandering the academy out of curiosity about his disciples' performance.
Sense of duty? Or is this tsundere affection?
Either way, after three months together, some attachment was inevitable, and he wanted to see how the swordsmanship department would shine.
Irene agreed, and their first stop was...
Tak!
Taak!
"Chick No. 7's doing pretty well."
"Lady Rose has amazing athleticism, huh?"
...the tennis courts, a battlefield of flowers.
Where the chicks were thriving.
"It's a total flower garden."
"My nose hurts from all the perfume."
"...Don't you think we've got the gender roles reversed?"
"What?"
"...Am I weird?"
Most noble ladies had chosen tennis as their sports elective, making the female ratio overwhelmingly high.
And dominating the courts were the swordsmanship department chicks.
Tak!!
"I-I won!"
"Wooo!"
"Huh? Instructor?!"
"Instructor, I won—!"
Maybe because they'd trained under him and gotten special lessons.
The girls displayed overwhelming skill, clinching victories and impressing the evaluators.
As expected of my recruits—no, chicks.
Were they finally shedding their downy feathers?
Hmm, they're top dogs here, at least.
Lee Han knew noble ladies who skipped walking for exercise, starved to slim down, and bragged about their "diets" while looking skeletal.
Plus, they had daily tea times with cake, black tea, and pastries non-stop.
Yet they claimed horseback riding and starving kept them fit...
No wonder their bodies break down.
So those ladies sulking over defeats to the chicks were upset about the wrong thing.
They had more urgent issues.
Malnutrition and extreme lack of exercise...
They might not notice now in their youth, but later? Lifelong frailty.
Compared to them, our chicks are phoenixes.
Unlike the scrawny patients, the healthy, vibrant chicks swung their rackets with joyful vigor.
They'd been no different from those patients at first, but now? Tremendous growth.
"Those kids are making me tear up."
"...What exactly moved you?"
"The joy of seeing a patient stand healthy again. Something like that."
"??"
...It was a sentiment Irene Windler was too young to grasp.
Afterward, Lee Han and Irene Windler toured various events.
"Kunta's coming through!"
"R-run! Don't collide!"
"Aaaah!"
A barbarian rampaging like a buffalo on the football field, sending cadets flying.
"Move if you don't wanna get hurt!"
"What kind of insane mounted acrobatics is that?!"
"A mercenary...! Gahk!"
A mercenary king's disciple dominating polo with wild horsemanship that screamed steppe nomad, not sellsword.
"You passed it!"
"Crazy bastard!"
"As expected of the Sword Saint's heir!"
"...I have no idea what hitting a ball well has to do with being a Sword Saint's successor."
The Sword Saint family's scion clinching a comeback home run in a tied cricket match to become the hero.
Beyond them, the entire swordsmanship department posted stellar results.
Utterly dominant.
As their teacher, Lee Han puffed up with pride.
Was this the joy of showing off carefully nurtured bonsai?
While he basked inwardly, Irene Windler voiced a question.
"Um, those are the 2nd and 3rd-year seniors, right?"
"Yep."
Obviously, the exams included 2nd and 3rd-years who'd skipped swordsmanship classes.
Faces new to both Lee Han and Irene, who frowned at them.
"Didn't you say they skipped your classes for private tutors?"
"Yeah."
"...Then why are they so weak?"
"Huh?"
"They're too weak. Way behind their juniors. I bet even the bear cubs could beat them."
"......"
"Why look at me like that?"
"Just found it cute."
"Wha?!"
"Ahem."
Unaware he'd rattled the girl's heart, Lee Han gave her a fresh look.
Was it her mage background, or living in the sword department? She'd developed a warrior's eye for gaps.
Or maybe...
Bloodline's OP, huh?
Perhaps innate talent.
Daddy's the duke who solos armies with that magic sword. Even raised as a warrior instead of mage, she'd be formidable.
Lee Han valued effort, but in this world, blood couldn't be ignored. He clicked his tongue.
Thus, Irene's eyes were spot-on, leaving Lee Han impressed.
As she'd said, the 2nd and 3rd-years were crushed by 1st-years, skill gaps glaring.
Game terms? Newbies who haven't finished first job change.
While 1st-years teetered on second or third. Absurd disparity.
...No wonder new knight intakes decline yearly. That's why.
It reminded him of the freshmen before academy: except bold Yord Decker who'd challenged him, the rest lacked spirit, like timid lambs.
They matched those lambs.
Bodies underdeveloped. Aura or presence awkward. At best, hunted beasts.
Not monsters—even rabbits or foxes felt right.
Their presence was that tame.
No fundamentals.
Again: he'd never half-assed instructing.
Approached everyone sincerely, trained them hard.
And hammered one thing: fundamentals.
Engraved into body and mind like brainwashing.
The results? Even after just three months, his 1st-years could crush their past selves.
Meanwhile, those with two extra years...
Pity.
Lee Han judged the 2nd and 3rd-years thus.
Bluff and puff. Hollow inside.
"Are fundamentals that crucial?"
"Like calling yourself a mage when you can't levitate a thread with mana."
"Whoa, that's seriously bad."
Irene got it instantly with a magic analogy.
Unable to control core mana? Like a kid with a hammer. Nothing more dangerous.
"Why's their level so low?"
"War ruined folks in all sorts of ways."
"Huh?"
"It happens."
Kids wouldn't know.
Briton War's stars were previous-gen knights, not today's.
Those old kingsguard retired; leftovers who'd partied through war now led the military.
Absence of the War God hurts bad.
War God.
Prior Pendragon king, ruled 120 years, elevated kingdom to great power status. Legendary.
Arrogant title for a man? His feats were superhuman.
Guy could've founded his own nation solo.
Even record-reading Lee Han admired the old king's talent: scouting geniuses.
Pick 'em? Generals or prime ministers. Nuff said.
Pendragon once overflowed with his handpicked talents, scaring even the Empire. Young Baltar Grace was one.
But 17+ years since the War God sailed to Avalon.
His peers gone; elders who'd shone in recent war awaited death beside him.
Now young blood must lead—but these youths... meh.
If war brews later, I'm outta this country.
Watching the "future leaders" bred a weird certainty: no "tomorrow" for this kingdom.
"-That's why it fell, huh."
"Pardon?"
"...Nothing."
"??"
He—Roan—swallowed his words.
Not time to voice it yet.
Just swallow inwardly.
Then.
"Is this what you wanted to show me, insolent whelp?"
"...Better than a hundred words, no?"
"True. Watching does boil the blood."
"......"
Roan chilled as the man behind him exuded cold menace.
He'd thought he knew: one of kingdom's pillars, with Pendragon and Lionel.
Even so, he'd figured he'd stand tall before a pillar.
No one to make him tense.
But.
...Scary.
Roan feared him—Blake Vivian de Galahad.
The man himself? Or...
Is the lion's blood in me trembling at him?
Either way, no relaxing.
"Shall I, my lord?"
"No. Not here to fight."
"This insolent pup ordered you around. Can't let that slide."
"...Feels like I raised a butcher, not a knight."
"Order it, and I'll be your butcher."
"...Sigh."
...Right, him too.
Rack de Duron. Galahad's Final Blade.
Not now.
Future title for him.
Also the "Slaughterer" who'd terrify the kingdom.
No one'd guess such savage ferocity slept inside...
Only the magic sword's owner—the duke—had leashed it.
No one to chain that "demon" in a duke-less kingdom.
But now's different. Even a vicious hound obeys its master. Future's not here yet.
So, he'd gamble.
While the duke lived hale, and the worst killer was still a "loyal dog."
"...Your Highness, I came with a proposal."
"Insolent...!"
"Enough."
"......"
"Continue, whelp."
"......"
Daring propose before the duke? Suicidal.
But dice rolled; Roan pressed on.
"Duke—nay, man with the purest old king's blood. ─Take the throne."
"You scum!!"
Rack drew steel; Roan grabbed Jack like he'd foreseen it.
"I'll hear your answer later."
Whoosh!
...They vanished in a blink.
Sensing even high knights dodged—near-[Mystic] concealment.
But Rack could've chased and killed any Mystic. As he moved...
"Enough."
"...My lord?"
"Hmph, rat bastards. Hiding's all they got, same as before."
"......"
"...Still."
Duke Blake's lips curved into a smile.
However.
"-Intriguing proposal, indeed."
His icy eyes betrayed no delight.
It was the fourth day of exams.