Distrust and Hatred (1)

In the end, Professor Muniher had no choice but to take a step back regarding this Start-of-Semester Evaluation.

Yet, even if he had yielded in the face of the rabble's outcry and Professor Nervel's murky ambitions, he felt little regret. For this time, those frauds draped in gaudy pretensions would be thoroughly exposed.

Still unable to tear his gaze from a single exam paper, Muniher remained immersed in its aftertaste, a corner of his mouth curving upward.

Besides, it wouldn't do for that boy to suffer any harm.

It had been the same in the empire as it was here in the principality: not a single person had ever managed to satisfy him. Even Goden, heralded as exceptionally promising, had earned nothing more than a dismissive turn of Muniher's head; and he had felt not the slightest spark of interest when observing Renias or Ronelion of the Arcab Party, despite the two being hailed as the rising stars of Revrant.

Why was that? Though they were undeniably talents too brilliant to ignore, his eyes simply never turned in their direction. One might have chalked it up to pity, but that was hardly the truth. He was notoriously exacting, a man who pitilessly picked apart the flaws of any student who dared approach him; he was never someone to be swayed by sympathy for the weak.

Yet a single student had managed to satisfy that fastidious scholar.

None other than the owner of this very exam paper—Junon.

As Professor Muniher sat studying the parchment, two visitors arrived.

Clack.

"Hm?"

"Sister, walk properly! We're already here!"

"Ugh... I feel so sick..."

"Goodness, seasickness, is it? I'll support her; you go rest on the sofa, dear."

"To think I'd be carrying my own older sister on my back at this age."

"Ugh... I told you I was sorry..."

Normally, a man as prickly as Muniher would have bristled at anyone barging in without knocking, but these two were scholars who had traveled from the Artena Empire in response to a faculty recruitment request.

Denise Flovel Beryl, who pursued academia grounded in Unique Magic and the essence of mana.

And Dalia Maybel Emerald, who had devoted herself to medicine and alchemy—realms of mortal endeavor that magic alone could never conquer.

At the mere mention of their names, any student would have gasped in awe. They were figures who would never stir for trivial matters, possessing more than enough standing to dismiss a recruitment request out of hand. That Denise and Dalia had set foot in the principality was entirely due to the fact that one was Muniher's wife and the other his sister-in-law.

In short, while the opposing faction had wielded political clout, Muniher had mobilized his personal connections.

"How did my sister-in-law end up in such a state?"

"As you can see, Denise swore she wouldn't take the medicine over her dead body, and this is the result."

"Leave me alone... I feel like dying... I'm never setting foot on a boat again..."

"Your shoulders must be terribly stiff from carrying her. Stay still, let me work that out for you."

"Oh, thank you, darling."

As the younger sister, visibly drained, tapped at her knot-ridden shoulders, Muniher stepped forward and gently began to knead them. Watching them from where she lay sprawled across the large three-seater sofa, Denise grumbled discontentedly.

"Brother-in-law. Even at a time like this, all you care about is your wife? Do I not even exist to you?"

"Shall I summon your husband Jake right this minute?"

"Ugh... forget it."

"You brought this on yourself," Dalia remarked. "If you had just taken the motion sickness draught properly, you'd be as fine as I am."

"Ugh. Stop nagging, Dalia. My head feels like it's going to split open."

Though they were long-awaited guests, the conversation stalled under the weight of her lingering nausea. Dalia chuckled softly as she watched her older sister whine like a child. Only after some time had passed and Denise's debilitating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seasickness finally began to subside were they able to get down to business.

"More importantly, Muniher. Why on earth did you call for me too? I heard you practically insisted on my coming."

"Indeed," Dalia agreed. "Calling just me would be one thing, but why ask for my sister as well?"

There were indeed vacancies among the faculty following the recruitment drive, and filling those posts with imperial scholars was precisely Muniher's plan. However, while Dalia was well-suited to fulfill her professorial duties, Denise was another matter entirely.

"There's someone I'd like you to teach."

"What? As if I could ever teach someone! I've spent my entire life buried in magic research."

"She's right," Dalia chimed in. "You know what my sister's temper is like, dear. She'd lose her patience and throw in the towel halfway through."

"Why, you..."

Just as Dalia said, Denise possessed a hot-tempered, sharp-edged disposition that made her ill-suited to instruct students. Though a faint vein throbbed near Denise's temple as she glared at her younger sister, it was all too true, leaving her with no ground to argue.

"See? Even Dalia says so. It's not just that my standards are high like yours; my temperament simply makes me unfit to teach."

"Jake was like that at first too," Muniher countered calmly. "Yet nowadays, he's practically smothered by students. You're more than capable."

"Have you known us for twenty years and still not figured it out? Jake only softened up after marrying me and having children, but I certainly haven't."

"I agree with my sister," Dalia added. "If she found even professional researchers so infuriating that she chose to conduct all the work herself, imagine putting her in front of students."

They would by no means take on the task of teaching students. That was the sisters' united front.

No choice then.

Faced with their stubborn refusal, Professor Muniher played his final card.

"Would you still say that if I told you he's a student I'm personally mentoring?"

"Eh? Darling? You're..."

"A student you're... teaching?"

"WHAT?!"

Hearing that the man who had never deigned to take a single student under his wing in his entire life had taken an apprentice made them doubt their own ears. Denise, who had been lying down groaning in misery, bolted upright, while Dalia stared at her husband as though he had transformed into a complete stranger.

"S-Sister... I-I misheard him, right? Right?"

"Yes, Dalia. We must be dreaming. There's no way this is real."

"Yeah, sister... But why do my cheeks sting? Something's strange..."

"It hurts? Really? Even if I do this?"

"Aack! Sister! I said it hurts!!"

"It's not a dream...? Truly...?"

"...Stop it, both of you. You're not children."

How utterly astonishing a revelation. It laid bare just how unprecedented it was for Muniher, who had seemed destined to never take a student to his dying day, to finally claim a disciple.

"Alright, fine, let's say that's true. Then you can just teach him yourself, Muniher. Why drag me into it?"

Dalia, rubbing her swollen cheek, nodded in agreement. "She has a point."

"First, I'd like you to look at this."

The sisters' wide, scrutinizing eyes landed upon two sheets of paper.

"An exam utilizing the Talbrut Ark... A method of evaluation frequently used in Hardia as well."

"There's no specified theme for the exam, which looks like an instruction to approach it with healthy skepticism. For your standards, this is surprisingly conventional. Other than that, I see nothing to nitpick."

"Even so... knowing you, you wouldn't have been satisfied with that and would've graded him stingily."

Twenty years of acquaintance had not been for nothing; Denise and Dalia knew Muniher inside and out.

"Since you know me so well, take a look at this."

Muniher nodded as if expecting nothing less, sliding a single grade report forward.

"..."

"..."

At that, both women fell dead silent, freezing in place.

The playful chatter from moments ago—speculating on his student and teasing his stifling personality—vanished without a trace. As if unable to believe what their own eyes were seeing, their expressions turned deadly serious, their gazes glued to the parchment.

"This boy... truly earned a grade like this from you?"

"Unbelievable... A student who received an overall grade of A-plus by your standards...?"

Professor Muniher, having brewed a fresh pot of black tea, sat back on the sofa and handed the student's personal dossier to the dazed sisters.

"His name is Junon. His hand-to-hand combat is ordinary, but he is developing steadily."

"His numbers are rather meager, though nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from that..."

"Wait. Be quiet for a second so I can concentrate."

Seeing her sister focus, Dalia nodded and firmly sealed her lips. The reason Denise had cut Dalia off with such burning intensity was that her eyes were fixed on one particular section of Junon's records.

Having finished her mental calculations, Denise pointed to a figure in Junon's mana measurements and spoke, her expression uncharacteristically grave.

"These figures... are they accurate?"

"Indeed. The student confirmed them himself quite recently."

"That makes no sense. For someone this meager, there must be something concealed within—"

"Regrettably, there was nothing. I verified it with my own two eyes."

He was a student without a single drop of innate genius. Blessed in no discipline whatsoever, possessing nothing more than a solitary offensive-interception type Unique Magic. Which meant that despite holding an ability utterly useless in a practical examination, he had scored every single point with his bare body alone.

"After the End-of-Term Evaluation concluded, he came seeking my guidance. And then, something fascinating happened."

""Fascinating?""

That wasn't just a flicker of interest; Muniher was thoroughly captivated. The sisters could clearly see the corner of his lips curling upward—a rare sight given his notoriously sour disposition.

After swallowing a sip of tea, the cup clattered softly against its saucer, and Professor Muniher spoke at last.

"He laid his hand upon a magic circle, injected mana in the reverse direction, and neutralized his opponent's spell. What do you make of that, Denise?"

Anti-Cast.

It was about that very technique.

"So it's come to this after all."

Drying my damp hair with a towel as I stepped out of the washroom, I found an urgent notice slipped beneath my door. It had likely been delivered to every student, from incoming freshmen to third-years.

"Well, fine by me. Nothing good would come of me getting into Class A anyway. This is much better."

If I ended up in Class A, I'd run into Michel, who was a permanent fixture there, not to mention Senia, who was due for promotion, along with Charlotte, Goden, and Erika. It was best to avoid crossing paths with them entirely, just as I had planned from the start. I didn't care about my grades in the slightest.

From my perspective, nothing had really changed.

Academically, I would be placed in a lower class regardless, and I wouldn't be able to attend the lectures I wanted anyway. Supplementing my knowledge in the library was far more advantageous since it kept me from running into those people.

"Though not being able to visit Professor Muniher is a bit of a pain."

Because an official duel evaluation was underway, all contact between faculty and students was strictly prohibited during this period. Grand Duke Ardelion had openly declared that he would rigorously oversee the proceedings to prevent any foul play, such as leaking information regarding an examinee's dueling partner.

"I'll just stick to my routine. What else can I do?"

Head to the training grounds, condition my body, and forge a physique capable of withstanding demonic beasts. Right now, rigorous self-discipline was the single best course of action available to me.

My feet carried me naturally toward Mizar Hall, where the fitness facilities were located. Today, too, I steeled my resolve to push this frail body to its absolute limits.

"He usually arrives around this time... Ah, speak of the devil. Student Junon?"

The administrative clerk at the front desk suddenly called out my name. Standing before the clerk as he rose to greet me was a petite young lady whom I hadn't seen since our brief encounter in the infirmary.

Normally, I would have avoided her at all costs.

"They told me you always stop by the training grounds, so I came looking for you. Is your body feeling alright?"

"Considering the young baroness before me, who commands an entire merchant guild and easily pays off hospital bills, treated me so lavishly, I'm doing just fine."

"Eep! Y-You found out..."

It was time we had a proper talk about what happened back then.

"Phew... Hup!"

A month had passed since Junon's regression, and lean muscle was beginning to define his frame. Though he threw himself into a grueling conditioning regimen to reshape his body, his mind remained crowded with lingering thoughts.

'This should be more than enough to cover the interest. Here, take it.'

'I didn't pay it hoping for interest! I just...'

'I don't like being indebted to others. Unless there's some other reason you feel guilty toward me?'

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

'Of course there is! Far from helping you, I ended up injuring you!'

'I never asked you to do that. And like I told you before, what's done is done. Just put it behind you.'

At that, Charlotte's petite frame had trembled violently. Her face crumpled, and to his utter dismay, tears had spilled over.

'Isn't it too cruel of you to refuse to let me repay even this much...?! It's suffocating enough that I can't do anything more for you!'

Clang!

"Damn it..."

Recalling Charlotte's parting words, Junon lost his grip, and the training weight slipped from his hands. The sharp clang echoing across the empty hall drained whatever motivation he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left to continue.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to meet her."

Muttering under his breath, he leaned back against a bench to catch his breath and sort through the tangled mess inside his head. Looking back on himself before the regression, Junon realized afresh that he was far too soft-hearted.

"She's a completely different person now... but I still ought to keep my guard up."

Yet seeing that young girl's tears had tugged at his conscience. Even if it seemed like childish petulance, Charlotte's desire to pay his medical expenses had been entirely sincere. And hearing her cry that it was suffocating not to be allowed even that much had made it impossibly difficult to push her away.

Besides, even if he alone carried the memories, she had once been a comrade who shared life and death beside him.

"Still... it's not as though Charlotte harbors any malice toward me..."

And so, Junon found himself entertaining the thought.

Perhaps this much was acceptable.

Originally, his intention had been to repay the hospital bill and sever ties completely, lest he become entangled with the members of Tembris. But hadn't the future already shifted several times? Through one action after another, the circumstances were subtly diverging from that past timeline. Most importantly, he hadn't joined Tembris.

So long as no life-threatening situation arose, was maintaining this much distance really such a bad thing?

Yeah. Keeping this much distance shouldn't hurt.

His time as a member of Tembris had been the most defining chapter of his life ever since falling onto the Kempf-Litton Continent. Even brushing Charlotte off had taken a tremendous toll on him, leaving him locked in long, agonizing deliberation. How could it not? As long as those memories lived within him, they were precious moments he could never easily discard.

Perhaps, since the future had changed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to some degree, it was fine to let his guard down just a fraction.

Their resentment toward me only festered because I joined their party in the first place...

As long as he never set foot inside Tembris, simply interacting with them as ordinary acquaintances shouldn't be an issue.

Rationalizing it to himself, Junon wrapped up his session and began putting the equipment away. At that precise moment—

"There you are. Could you spare me just a moment... to talk?"

The woman he had strived so desperately to avoid appeared before him.

"No matter what slander others spread about you... No, that's not it. I'll just get straight to the point. I want you to join our party."

An outright invitation to join.

And then, another voice cut in without warning.

"Hold on, Michel. I need to speak with him alone first."

"...!"

The one interjecting was someone with whom he had zero connection—someone who should never have crossed his path at this point in time.

Why is she here...?!

"Erika...?"