Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: A Possible Future
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Knight Division.
Considering the total headcount and their massive builds, this place truly represents the peak of population density in Jefrin.
People seven, land three.
The Knight Division, boasting this hellish population density, is always brimming with vitality.
Just settling into second year after surviving first year is proof of making it in Jefrin, and passing the second-year midterms means they're now full-fledged members.
However, even among them, clear hierarchies exist.
The Knight Division carries a strong image of being the rejects who couldn't make it into the Magic Division, which makes them all the more eager to rank themselves—deciding who's elite and who's trash.
Yet amid all that, some classes are utterly unattainable.
Another class.
Commonly called Irregulars.
They boldly claim positions equal to—or above—the mediocre celebs in the Magic Division, and their real social standing backs it up.
At the very bottom of the Irregulars are those who've forged connections with provincial royalty.
Prime examples: Knight Division students who've caught the eye of houses like the Highmelody Kingdom or Hassan Shadow. After graduation, they snag a national fast-pass into those houses' regular armies, securing a shot at elevating themselves.
Next up: the central elite.
In other words, Knight Division students who've networked with the Loengrin Empire's nobility. These are the ones destined to lead private squads and form the core of their families.
Wolfram von Loengrin. In Yi Young-jin's terms, upper tier like a grade-7 civil servant, lower like big-corp job security.
But surpassing all that—the Irregular of Irregulars.
The Knight Division students whose future careers can bear the noble prefix "Royal."
Namely, those tied to the imperial family.
In short: Royal Guard candidates.
"Next class. Ms. Nepthelian. Ready?"
"Yes! 【Guardian Formation: Wolf's Eye】"
"Begin."
9th Knight Division Training Ground.
Jefrin's Knight Division designs its training grounds with most battlefields in mind.
The 9th's theme: "forest."
Monster models placed in the woods, magic stones embedded with recorded mana patterns leaking faint mana.
Detection skills make them feel indistinguishable from the real thing.
Right after the skill.
Monsters' mana "started to appear" in Nefti's eyes.
This technique demands not just mana, but talent and "innate senses."
"Left, 15 degrees. Range 300. Two goblins. Right, 20 degrees. Range 500. One orc."
"......"
"......"
A flash of admiration and disappointment crossed the instructor's eyes, but Nefti's next words wiped one emotion clean away.
"Dead ahead, range 1200. Altitude 300. Harpy."
"Outstanding, Ms. Nepthelian!"
"Thank you."
"Didn't expect you'd nail the last harpy. Orcs and goblins are visible to the naked eye, but that one's pure sensory territory."
The instructor lavished praise on Nefti, stressing the importance of senses over and over.
"As you know, Ms. Nepthelian, the imperial family often heads out on 'hunts' for leisure. In those cases, Royal Guards—as devoted retainers—"
"Must throw their bodies to block any potential danger. ...Yes. I keep it in mind."
"Truly outstanding. You've followed along perfectly, without a single gripe."
"Thank you."
Not just detection—sparring with instructors was brutally intense, but Nefti never once complained of hardship.
The training was undeniably grueling.
Magic Division folks can always fall back on research roles from afar.
But Knight Division? Bottom rung's still core merc material, top's imperial escort.
Everyone's job demands rampaging on the battlefield.
So the Knight Division's classes are as harsh as Wolfram recalls from the original—minus the outright "life-or-death" stakes.
Classes even Nefti strains to keep up with.
A thick bead of sweat trailed from her bangs down her cheek. Hearing the drip hit the ground, she chewed over the instructor's words.
"Hunting... for leisure."
"Yes. Captured monsters released into the imperial woods, knights in pursuit for the kill. Royal Guards attend right at the imperial family's side. Demands fitting etiquette and prowess."
......
She understood. But couldn't agree.
Learning etiquette, honing strength—she got that.
But the senior she swore to protect wouldn't waste time on leisure hunts squandering imperial treasures. That part? No agreement.
She sharpens her martial arts and manners to stand flawlessly by that person's side when the grand undertaking begins someday.
The massive project: conquer all Jefrin, storm the palace, link the continent by rail.
Monsters. Wars. It'll happen.
"Next training, please."
"No. That's it for today."
"...Pardon? But I can keep going."
"Hehe. This is for your sake, Ms. Nepthelian."
"Pardon?"
"Heard His Highness holds you in great affection. True?"
"Mm, we're pretty close."
"Yes. So a salon awaits afterward. Hurry and change into a dress."
"...Pardon? A dress?"
"Don't have one?"
"......"
Of course not.
Why would she?
It was a day when summer's approach roared louder than ever.
But this wasn't lifetime Korea—no Seoul summer hell.
8th Magic Dorm: airy, great airflow, shady spots deliciously cool.
Top it with lightly frozen milk shave ice? Resort vibes. No need to go elsewhere.
Lately, Spica's skipping convenience store shifts often.
Hits the library, toting books like How to Win an Older Guy's Heart.
Eh, prime age for romance drama. Thanks to her, I'm footloose and fancy-free.
Just like that—blissful early summer dawn.
"...Uwaaaaa. Uweeeeng."
"......Don't kill the vibe outta nowhere."
If not for Nefti mumbling shapeless syllables, it'd be perfect.
Watching her face-plant at the parasol table we set up for summer crowds, whining away—dread hits first. What mess did she drag in this time?
But.
"...Huuuwaaauuueeeaaang."
Her "notice me" routine's reached art form.
"What happened."
"Listen, Senior. So I'm taking Royal Guard classes, right..."
TL;DR of Nefti's ramble: no dress.
"Senior. Do Royal Guards really need dresses?"
"...Can't say never."
Original game: Kelters suits up as Eve's dance partner for socials. Eve route thing, though—norm is light armor for Royal Guards.
So that instructor's prepping her to tag along to socials. As dance partner, even.
Hm...
Dress, huh.
"Dresses cost a fortune. Three jeweled-up, southern flower-magic-embedded ones? Builds a warship."
"...Th-that much?"
I nodded. Late-game drops a 1.5 billion lin stunner—description confirms.
"Crafting's a nightmare too."
"Uuu..."
Considered DIY, but nah.
Even with 【Heavenly Cloth Creation】 skill, dresses demand mad proficiency. Not grabbing one quick.
Yggdrasil commission? No rush job.
"Nefti. You against wearing a dress itself?"
"...Never tried. No chance. Village fest one-piece max. ...Don't think I'd hate it."
"Gotcha."
"Yeah. ...New experience. And... learning dance in a dress, only partner I'd want... ehehe."
Nefti mumbled something, but past "not hating it," I zoned into thought—missed the rest. Pity.
Kid became Royal Guard for me.
Gotta back her up somehow.
"Not impossible."
"Y-yes? The dress? Place to buy already? ...How much I pitch in."
"Nah. We'll snag it."
"...Pardon?"
Meaning: time to mooch.
I hopped on the Black King Tiger, heading to the usual spot.
Honestly, auto-drive first pick—even sans Patrasche at the wheel.
Deeper into Common Division: massive building at Jefrin's heart.
Student Council HQ.
Inside: Sylphia Evergreengrove.
Been a minute.
"Prince Wolfram?"
"Long time. Out?"
"Yes. Brief expedition."
Ah.
That season already.
Post-expedition, she chases Black Flag separate from Eve.
Eve route: star physical DPS ghosts, pure pain.
"Tough gig. Eve inside?"
"Yes. ...But."
"Hm?"
"Your vibe's shifted big-time."
Sylphia flashes a sly smile.
Hm.
Can toss lines like that now.
My mana potion order to Eve did the trick?
"Did it? Don't feel it."
"Yes. Now you feel like liege's blood kin."
Ah.
Secret Lovely Potion hit home.
Landed on Sylphia Evergreengrove? Nuff said.
"Then, seeing Eve. Clear the way?"
"She's inside. Office hours—the one's behind... 2nd year, far as I know."
"Top seat. Nepthelian."
"No can do. Prince Wolfram's exception, but no appointment..."
Hm.
Fair point.
How to spin... Ah.
"Placing her right by my side."
"...Pardon?"
"...Pardon~?"
My words yanked twin gasps from Sylphia and Nefti.
Yo Nefti, why so theatrically shocked.
"So not unrelated to Eve."
"...I-see."
"Hm."
Sylphia bowed, muttering as I doubled down.
"Slipping in blue-hairs while away, fiancée or no, swapping playthings like trash..."
"Hm. Say what?"
"...Tch. Eve-sama judges. Go."
"...?"
Casual speech outta nowhere?
Hm. Whatever.
"Half-assed polite's worse than straight casual. Fits you, Sylphia Evergreengrove."
"Ugh. Enter, beam-fried corpse out—I'll clean up, Wolfram."
Yo, speech flip-flop. Pick a lane.
But yeah.
That's you.
Student Council room: Eve, buried in work per usual.
Damn, exhausting.
Dark circles brutal, face hollowed out.
"That slammed?"
"...Your fault... chasing sis... she mocks everything..."
"Ah."
"Wanna bail... great ancestor's kid... who am I to refuse... Student Council piles up too..."
"......"
Stop.
I get it.
Sis offered as dragon fodder? Tears incoming.
Hang in there.
"Eve."
"...Wha...t."
"Warehouse access."
"Stake it all to end this bond here... 【Photon Cannon: Last Magic: Full Load: Devoted Strike】"
Eve charges photon cannon behind her back. Man, she's beat lately.
Killing on words alone? Bad habit. Tsk.
"Eve..."
"【Guardian Formation: Target Lock: Life for Life】"
Before I speak—yanked backward, Nefti surges forward.
"...Nefti, out. Can't off that guy otherwise."
"Apologies, President. Only one I protect... even joke threats, stake my life."
"......"
Eve flustered. Nefti zen. Me? Sigh.
"Tch. Eve's not serious. Nefti, quit souring the mood—back off."
"Yes."
Says so, stays planted.
"Right, Nefti—Royal Guard training."
"Yes. Lacking as I am, aiming to escort Wolfram."
"Sigh. Really? Then must block this strike."
Eve flicks wrist—magic fizzles.
Nefti drops guard, beams.
"Thanks. Knew no shot, President."
"...Fine. You'll make killer Royal Guard. My guarantee. Liege being Wolfram's the snag."
"Praise appreciated, Eve President."
"Tired of Wolfram later? Hit me up. Royal no-go, but Imperial Guard spot? Yours."
"If Senior boots me, rehire plea then."
Easy banter, light laughs.
Smile I know. Friendship solid. Good.
"So Wolfram. Warehouse for? Embezzling again?"
"Nah. Claiming legit rights."
"...Pardon?"
"One unused power from my term."
"What? Forgot? Why no revoke?"
Hands off?
Revoke-happy much.
"Appointment squared. Want Royal Guard cloak, special-order uniform."
"Ah... yeah, checks out. Forgot."
Kelters route too.
Awakened Royal Guards swap standard garb for these specials.
Settings: gendered. Women's "Jefrin uniform mod dress armor." Spot-on.
Dress armor counts as dress, yeah?
"Pardon? Wait—what for?"
"Nefti's."
"...Taking it out broadcasts academy-wide: Nefti's your Royal Guard?"
"Yup."
"Wearing binds to user—no reclaim? Not official naming."
"Know. Anti-impersonation safeguard."
"Nefti quits? Uniform's hers—you first imperial dumped by own Royal Guard?"
"Hm."
Terrifying, sure.
Imperials dump Guards fine. Reverse? Historic scandal.
That imperial: eternal fool, blacklist legend.
"Th-that OP item, I..."
Pre-Nefti finish—I snort, shut Eve down.
"Irrelevant."
"...Wolfram?"
"...Senior?"
Whatever—fork it over.
"Nefti'd never betray. Zero worry from jump."
"Wolfram, you..."
"...Eep. Senior Wolfram."
20k hours grinded.
Nefti? Never flipped.
Favor locked friendly-up. Trust incarnate—who else?
Eve sighs deep. Nefti blushes at the hype.
"Ugh, fine. Hang tight."
"Quick. Drinks on arrival? Nice."
"Argh! Grrraaah!"
Pre-exit: Eve squints daggers.
"Wolfram. Wolfram von Loengrin."
"Yeah?"
"One imperial scion so slutty with women, hacked apart by their hands. Know him?"
"...Who?"
"Didn't exist. Might."
...Aiming at me?
Nah.
Who in Jefrin's cleaner than me? Zero dirt.