Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Building the Build (2)
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Academy Chancellor Gilbert Macdalion's words hadn't ended.
"Why don't you know the reason I even called a deans' meeting? Why we had to select someone of that stature as a tutor for the imperial family! Do you really not know? It's all to save face!"
Face.
The higher one's status and the greater the power they wielded, the more crucial it became.
Nobles always acted with face in mind, and sometimes situations arose where they couldn't resist, even if it put their lives at risk—all for the sake of face.
But for the imperial family? The weight of face was heavier than anything else.
"Once we send a tutor, we can't interfere anymore! Even if the other party is the talentless 9th Prince! That's why the other deans were reluctant to send their disciples as tutors! Because once they're sent, no more interference allowed! But... what the hell did you do!"
"Ch-Chancellor, please calm down first..."
"Is this something to calm down about!"
Bang!
Unable to contain his anger, Gilbert slammed his fist down on the desk.
"We could've glossed over the reports somehow! We could've made excuses, saying it was unavoidable since it was ongoing work! But demanding employment fees? From the imperial family directly? Did you send a disciple, or did you send a debt collector to squeeze money out of the imperial family!"
"I-I..."
Jeromos couldn't muster any excuses in front of Gilbert.
Because it was exactly that.
He had planned to pocket Amelin's employment fees as personal research funds anyway, then dump all the piled-up work on her when she returned.
Gilbert let out a heavy sigh and spoke.
"Still, thanks to your disciple, we avoided a major disaster."
"Pardon?"
"The 9th Prince seems to like your disciple. He's hiring her as his personal mage, and all he did was warn us not to interfere with or even contact Amelin about Academy matters. It ended there. You're lucky to have such an outstanding disciple."
No direct harm had come to the Academy.
But Gilbert had no intention of letting the matter drop.
Simply cutting off contact without more would be naive and foolish.
They needed to demonstrate directly that they were heeding the imperial warning and withdrawing.
"Jeromos, I'm suspending you for three months. Cool your head and reflect on your foolish actions in the meantime."
"Th-Three months' suspension! What do you mean, Chancellor! I still have research to..."
"Is your research more important right now! You nearly dragged the Academy's reputation through the mud! Be grateful you're not being expelled! I'm done explaining myself to you. Get out!"
Unable to defy Gilbert's command, Jeromos left the chancellor's office and returned to his own laboratory.
And then.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
Jeromos clutched his head and let out a guttural scream.
"Amelin! You traitor bitch! After I picked up a street orphan like you and raised you! Uwaaaaaah!"
Suspension for three months.
No research grants or salary during that time meant no proper research could be done.
Of course, he had more than enough money to live on for three months—overflowing, even.
But that wasn't the point.
Being scolded by the Chancellor had already exceeded Jeromos's limit for tolerance.
And the contrast—he got slapped with a three-month suspension while Amelin became the 9th Prince's personal mage—only fueled his rage further.
Objectively speaking, Amelin was the next best mage after Jeromos himself.
She had more than enough talent to serve as an imperial personal mage, but that fact meant nothing to him now.
To him, Amelin was little more than a convenient tool: a street find with some talent, whom he'd taught magic on the side while making her handle all sorts of chores.
He hadn't liked her dealing with a familiar unworthy of her station, either.
He'd planned to dissolve the contract and claim the familiar for himself when the opportunity arose.
Yet here he was, tasting humiliation, while she landed the pinnacle of stable jobs: personal mage to the imperial family.
'No way she earned it through skill in this short time! Amelin! She must've used that vulgar body of hers! Hiding such a vixen side!'
Anyone could see from her usual demeanor that, great figure or not, she wasn't the type to resort to such tactics.
But that truth held no importance for Jeromos.
As long as he could rationalize his fury, it was all the same.
'Just you wait, Amelin. You'll pay dearly for this! I swear it!'
"I sweeeear it!"
Kwaaaang!
"Kyaaaak!"
Lost in rage, he'd blindly smashed his fist into the desk—and cracked the bones in his fingers.
A week had passed since Amelin arrived at our mansion.
To be honest, she was an excellent tutor.
She'd been surprised at first, but afterward, she patiently explained how the applications I came up with on a whim worked and the challenging stages they could achieve.
She even pondered what was feasible in my current state and offered advice that proved genuinely helpful.
Were outstanding mages simply gifted at teaching as well?
'Her potential was absurd to begin with.'
A mid-to-late-game boss by the game's lore, Amelin falls to corruption and single-handedly twists, conquers, and wrecks the Academy.
She couldn't have been anything less than exceptional as a mage.
And the more I saw her face, the better I understood what kind of person Amelin was—and why she'd eventually succumb to darkness.
"Huh? How was life at the Academy?"
"Yeah. We've finished today's lessons, right? So tell me about yourself during the remaining time."
"Aren-nim, have you taken an interest in women other than me?"
"Ridel, you're curious too, aren't you? About how the Academy operates—the one that tried to openly siphon imperial funds."
"True enough. Would you tell us, Amelin?"
"Y-Yes. B-But it won't be very interesting..."
"Tell me."
"Y-Yes!"
And so, the Academy life Amelin described was nothing short of a circus.
Basic research for thesis topics was a given, but she ran endless errands for Dean Jeromos every day.
She even drafted reports for the Chancellor that weren't hers, along with letters and requests to various departments.
But the most shocking part? She'd researched and written theses entirely on her own, only for Jeromos to slap his name on them as the author—and she'd shown me five of them already.
By the time we heard that, Ridel and I both had headaches.
It felt like we'd been force-fed tales from a world where common sense didn't exist.
"And you never protested?"
"P-Protest... I had nowhere else to go... The Dean said it was all necessary for me to become a great mage someday... I was an orphan, and he found me by chance and raised me, so it was my way of repaying that grace too."
"Aren-nim, I know this all too well. It's brainwashing. Convincing her that unfair treatment is perfectly normal."
"Same opinion here, Ridel."
For a meek... no, good-natured pushover like Amelin to turn dark, I couldn't even imagine the hell that must have followed.
"Amelin."
"Y-Yes! Your Highness!"
"This is your workplace and home now, so make yourself comfortable. If you need anything for your research, just say the word. If it's a topic that piques my interest, I'll fund it generously."
"Y-Yes... Th-Thank you, Your Highness."
"And since I want to handle familiars myself later, teach me summoning magic bit by bit. Ah, but is summoning magic similar to spirit magic?"
"It is similar, in that your minds must connect."
"Then teach me spirit magic properly too, Amelin."
A build tanking with spirits while familiars handle offense didn't sound bad at all.
"Yes! Your Highness! I'll study hard to be of use to you!"
"Good. You're my personal mage, so have some confidence in yourself."
I figured things were going smoothly with Amelin.
No need to worry about me becoming the corrupting influence.
Or so I thought, a few days later.
"Hueeeeng! Please! Please don't throw me away! Your Highness! Anything! Anythiiing! I'll do whatever it takes! You're all I have left! If you say strip, I'll strip! If you want me to serve you at night, this lowly body of mine—anything! Pleeease!"
"W-Why are you doing this!?"
Amelin threw herself at my feet, clinging to my leg while blurting out the most outrageous things.