Chapter 343
Chapter 343
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 343
Chapter Title: The Dropout Farce and Munich's Allure
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Mecklenburg took the hand Lucas Müller extended. Lucas Müller looked refreshed even after hearing he couldn't drop out, but Mecklenburg couldn't figure out why no matter how much he thought about it.
‘He has a face like Adrian Ascanien, but with bandages plastered all over it, he doesn't look the least bit cautious.’
Talking to him in person only confirmed that he was utterly lacking in dignity or prudence. The two of them left the reception room and toured the renovated church courtyard. Just as Mecklenburg was about to ask for a school tour, Lucas looked up at the cathedral's spire with a satisfied expression.
“Actually, Albert.”
“Yeah.”
“I don't know the school layout.”
Mecklenburg frowned subtly and lifted the corner of his mouth. What had he just heard? A friend who'd attended this school for at least five years saying this? Had he left his brain somewhere?
Lucas stood there, arms crossed, looking around. Then he pointed at the student who'd been sitting alone in the front row during the oath— the one wearing a student council badge all by himself.
“You there!”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You're the vice president, right? His Highness the Grand Duke Heir needs a school tour, but I don't think I can do it to his liking. Mind taking over?”
“M-Me, m-me?!”
“Yeah, you. How many times do I have to say it.”
What? Was he seriously trying to dump me on someone else? Mecklenburg blinked in confusion, looking back and forth between them, then grabbed Lucas's shoulder.
“Hold on a sec? You were supposed to handle the school tour yourself…”
“Perfect! Thanks so much, man! I'm heading out now, so see you in class later.”
Lucas quickly grabbed the vice president's shoulder and glared at him. Did he think no one would notice? Mecklenburg, intuiting the blatant intimidation, stood there gaping in disbelief until Lucas had slipped away. The vice president, left all alone, pitifully reached out after him.
“Huh? No…!”
* * *
“What do you think you're doing, coming in after class has already started?”
Lucas Müller entered the classroom empty-handed, having apparently left his carry-on somewhere. It had been twenty minutes since class began, and whatever turmoil he'd gone through in the meantime had left his hair disheveled, like it'd been torn at. He swept back his fallen locks with a hand, scanned the anxious faces of the students, and politely apologized to the teacher.
“I'm sorry. I got lost.”
“…….”
Got lost? This is your school. Mecklenburg let out a hollow chuckle in disbelief. The teacher voiced the exact same sentiment.
“Got lost? This isn't your first or second day here… And I hear you dumped the Grand Duke Heir's school tour on someone else…”
The teacher, furrowing his brow as he recalled the dropout declaration, sighed and continued.
“Come see me after class. Take your seat quickly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucas sat down with a proper smile.
Mecklenburg's arrival should have made the classroom buzz enough on its own. It actually had, before class started. All the prestigious local noble kids had gathered around the seat assigned to him. But the dynamic shifted with the arrival of the dropout drama's star.
After the first lesson segment ended, the classmates swarmed Lucas's desk. A serious-faced student placed a hand on it and looked down at him. The others crowded around, creating a scene that looked intensely burdensome even from afar. Lucas seemed caught off guard too, a bit flustered.
“Lucas. The dropout thing—is it real?”
“What's going through your head, Lucas? What happened to make you say that right there?”
“Yeah, what happened? Tell us.”
Lucas looked at their worried faces and the ones on the verge of tears, forcing out a voice that wouldn't come.
“Guys. The thing is, actually…”
His voice cracked slightly, startling Mecklenburg without realizing it. The students exchanged grave looks too.
“Yeah. Actually?”
“Nothing happened.”
“…….”
Silence fell like someone had hit mute. Before the absurdity could even sink in, eardrum-piercing shouts erupted from all sides.
“Hey!”
“Aaaah! Ugh, I swear this guy stresses me out.”
“Hahaha! Guys, why would I drop out? Huh?”
“You're insane…”
“You just said it right there like that? For real?”
The students laughed and slapped Lucas's back. Whether it was really that funny was debatable, but it sure lacked gravity. He'd seemed somewhat reliable seeing the student council president badge, but still.
Mecklenburg glanced around at the classmates. For some reason, Lucas was doing the same, grinning along with the others who were smirking at their desks before turning his eyes elsewhere. His face flashed with fleeting sympathy toward those who'd stiffened up unnaturally, staring fixedly at their books.
‘…Hm?’
Mecklenburg narrowed his eyes. Sympathizing with the students who saw him as frivolous? Why? Was that prank deliberate, or was what I read in his eyes just my imagination? Lucas chuckled along moderately until the chatter died down, then wiped the smile away and spoke calmly.
“To be honest, my condition's been really off lately. I did want a break, that's true, but it was the wrong way to go about it. I'm really sorry for saying that from such a representative position.”
“Nah, it's fine~ It was fun. Did you see the teachers' faces? Felt good inside.”
Playful responses kept coming, unaware of his intent. He'd tried to wrap it up seriously after diffusing with laughs, but it wasn't fully laughable, poor guy. Shouldn't have acted the fool from the start. Mecklenburg turned away with that assessment.
He'd expected it'd end in laughs, but unexpectedly, Lucas's dry voice followed.
“No. I didn't see, so I need to go apologize properly. But first.”
The students' laughter tapered off as realization dawned. Lucas shot up from his seat and asked his friends.
“But first, guys. Do I seem off today?”
“Nah, not today— you've always been like that.”
“You just noticing now?”
“…….”
Lucas didn't answer. His actions spoke for him clearly. Why ask if he seemed off today? Mecklenburg pored over the school operations inspection report from the Interior Ministry while fixating entirely on Lucas. Lost in thought until the black print danced on the page, a long finger tapped his shoulder.
“Albert.”
It was Lucas. Mecklenburg replied with a suitable smile.
“…What's going on?”
“Wanna come to the staff room with me?”
“I hope you apologize on your own, Lucas.”
“You're sharp. Let's go.”
That was their entire conversation that day. Well, there were a couple more exchanges. A few hours later, Mecklenburg asked:
“Lucas. Mind showing me the science lab?”
“Sorry. I don't know where it is.”
Mecklenburg, unable to process it at first and sitting frozen for a while, finally cracked a smile. Lucas laughed lightly and explained.
“Sorry, I really don't. Let me know when you find out?”
Naturally, Mecklenburg didn't tell him. How could someone who'd attended for years not know his own school's science lab? Utterly hopeless.
Yet it nagged at him that this guy inexplicably had Adrian Ascanien's face. That he was top of the school—nay, the top student in the Mecklenburg-Strelitz Grand Duchy—left a nagging doubt. Soon he'd graduate high school and enter the Imperial First Academy, joining Adrian Ascanien and Mecklenburg himself. They were third-years now, so it was imminent. Not just this week—they'd be together for years ahead, and this Lucas Müller might even compete against him for the Imperial Magic Association selection.
If he lost to that face again then.
The absurd thought made Mecklenburg burst out laughing. His fork clattered onto the plate. The savory dinner meat that had dominated his taste buds now tasted like cold congealed grease. A classmate beside him noticed his expression and asked worriedly.
“Your Highness, is something wrong?”
“No.”
Even in the same school, the noble kids didn't drop formalities with Mecklenburg. He gazed at the student council president across the table, frivolously reciting Rimbaud's poetry backward like he'd completely forgotten his dropout nonsense to Munich. He clearly chafed at the restraint bracelet on his wrist, yet he knew one word from Mecklenburg could remove it and let him sneak off to Munich…
Just vanishing to Munich wouldn't be bad. Not coming back would be fine too.
Mecklenburg stared at him for a long moment before rising. No interest sparked in the dripping meat or the red wine gone off-taste.
Third day. Mecklenburg and Lucas's playgroups had split. It wasn't like students formed cliques, but natural groupings had emerged clearly. Lucas mingled broadly but stuck more with his type, while Mecklenburg hung with the richest nobles. Those bold enough to approach the Grand Duke Heir were usually that sort. The kids seeking him out yammered about politics and economics all day, sniffing for profit or connections.
“Ah, I can't run anymore.”
“Ugh…”
It was physical assessment day for the new semester. Irritated voices echoed from the track, fading then nearing repeatedly. Some students trudged back, and the PE teacher recorded their long-distance times. Two weeks into the term—Mecklenburg's visit timed for it, likely to showcase the students' superior fitness. But his eyes weren't on the PE teacher glancing his way. Lucas ran with an effortless calm until only two or three remained, lapping steadily. One more student returned pale-faced. After how many laps, a sharp whistle pierced the air. The teacher called the student council president's name.
“Stop! First place, Lucas Müller!”
First place. Cheers erupted. Lucas grinned triumphantly, whipping off his gym shirt to wave it like a flag as he jogged over. He winked at the kids whistling wildly from their seats; the teacher sat them down and warned him.
“No weird celebrations.”
“I'll do my best.”
The teacher's smile at his cheeky reply looked reckless. But Mecklenburg knew. That type, like Adrian Ascanien. Every laugh, word, gesture laced with unique charisma, captivating all. As if it were his innate ability.
First, first, first… Must feel good. If Mecklenburg had joined, Lucas might've been second. But he was undeniably on par with Imperial Second Academy magic students. The unease from that thought churned his gut. Mecklenburg watched Lucas straighten his t-shirt and pull his gym clothes back on. Their eyes met; Mecklenburg didn't look away. Lucas turned indifferently, chatting with others.
Lucas Müller remained at the students' center till day's end. Just before homeroom, as sunset filtered in leaving everyone drowsy, they had magic theory. The teacher's dull voice filled the room.
“What does Ion Porso signify? If we say '56 years before Ion Porso,' what is that? Anyone?”
The students were deathly silent, but the teacher scanned them determinedly. He pointed at one.
“You there. Helen!”
“Yes? Uh, that's time…”
“Time?”
“Just time.”
“…Sit.”
The baton passed unpredictably again. Students bit lips, eyes darting, until one slyly glanced at Lucas. As a fellow student, Mecklenburg knew what that look meant. Lucas answered with a grin and nod, rising.
“It refers to the day magic was granted to humanity, so 56 years before Ion Porso means 56 years before magic's emergence.”
Relieved sighs dotted the room; Lucas snickered. The teacher, already pleased, beckoned.
“Good. Next.”
“The dictionary definition of Ion Porso is the progression of time.”
“More.”
No wonder no one wanted to answer. Demanding more than the initial question. Mecklenburg turned to him, curiosity peaking on how much more he knew. Lucas pondered briefly, then unloaded everything.
“Like how the sun seems to rise above, move sideways, and fall from Earth's view, Ion Porso's progression includes not just forward motion but all directions—up, down, left, right—yet that motion flows wholly one way, like Earth's orbit around the sun. Not a perfect analogy, but the intro book I read used it. An abstract concept of coexisting states; who first called it 'the day magic appeared' is unknown. It's now seen as anti-Christian, with discussions to replace the term.”
“…….”
The teacher raised his brows and nodded.
“Complex concept, well grasped. No one else here seems to know this much—don't neglect studies beyond the textbook. In short, Ion Porso is…”
“Saved us.”
Whispers rose.
“Be grateful.”
Cheeky banter returned.
That was the day. Barely any time together. Approaching would've gotten “Dunno,” “Ask that guy?” evasions. Like his flimsy excuse of not knowing the school after years.
“One more set!”
“You'll still lose.”
Mecklenburg headed to the tennis courts. He ran into Lucas slinging his bag over his shoulder. Lucas raised a brow, wiggling his fingers in greeting. Even insisting on friendship, no low noble greeted like that.
“Why're you standing around? Go rest.”
“No. Wait.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, nodded, and stood before him. The student council badge on his loosely worn jacket glinted in the sunset. It irked how it matched his friends'; Mecklenburg muttered at it.
“You're going to Munich, right.”
“Gave up.”
“What?”
“I'm not dropping out, right? Can't. Didn't know you cared this much. Second day and you're saying ‘Munich, huh?’ Thanks for remembering.”
Lucas chuckled mischievously, turning to go. Mecklenburg feigned a mild tone.
“Not done talking, Lucas. I still haven't heard why you look like my friend.”
Lucas just tilted his head.
“Sorry, how do you explain that?”
“Beyond that, there's plenty suspicious about you…”
“You go back to Berlin's Imperial Second Academy and hang with your lookalike buddy; I do school here hard, then join a state agency or head to Munich. I'm outta your hair since I bug you. Can't now, but next year I will. Happy?”
“No, wait.”
Mecklenburg grabbed him impulsively. He wanted something from him. He didn't know what to do anymore, but this he knew: could he not guard against this man identical to Adrian Ascanien in face and more? Letting him go to Munich was principled, but part wished he'd skip college and vanish there entirely. While Mecklenburg chose words, the impatient president looked around and patted his shoulder.
“Honestly, no clue why I should care about your friend. So, tennis match~?”
Instead of dignifying the nonsense, Mecklenburg asked:
“Why not go to Munich?”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
Annoyance crossed the ever-smirking president's face.
“Me looking like your friend such a problem? Sorry, I'm not him.”
“If you enter First Academy, we'll meet. Next fall or so.”
“…….”
Lucas Müller smiled like he'd expected it, almost pitying.
“You're consistent. Well, you're 18…”
“So are you.”
“…Yeah. Mind blown. Where'd my missing time go… Five, six years, whatever.”
He spouted more nonsense, then clapped and blurted:
“Ah, right. Unlike what you said days ago, seems you want me in Munich? Why should I?”
“…….”
“Yeah, can't say. Want me to tell you why I want to go?”
Mecklenburg smiled thinly, eyes narrowing. The president slung an arm over his shoulder, face close. Mild germaphobe, the sudden contact irked, but tolerable.
“Telling you 'cause you're Grand Duke Heir level. Don't blab. Can keep a secret?”
“I don't gossip about what friends tell me.”
“Right, yeah. Course not. So, wanna hear?”
I'd have spilled by now. Mecklenburg held his sigh, kept smiling. Lucas's clear voice drilled in.
“You can get way stronger in Munich-Pfrising.”
“…Wait, Pfrising? What're you saying.”
“For real. You can wield hundreds of times more mana there? Mana no divine power could match.”
Hundreds of times? Unmatchable mana…? Mecklenburg gaped, then slapped his arm away, frowning cautiously.
“…Talking Pleroma? To get Vitriol?”
“Ah, as expected. Quick.”
“So that's what going to Munich meant?!”
“Don't freak. I know someone there well. They say they'll make me strong for sure if I come. So, um…”
Madness made nothing compute. Lucas's words dragged. Then worse came.
“Wanna come too? Heard you're big at Second Academy. Unlock this bracelet, and we both get stronger.”
“…….”
Mecklenburg backed away shaking his head, face hardening. Oddly, Lucas ignored it, pressing on like things were going smoothly.
“Creeped out? Sounds crazy? Interested? Or not? Coming or no?”
Ask one thing! It's insane, but…
Suddenly, a future flashed in his mind.
If he caught this proto-Pleroma at the moment it became real?
Then he could prove to all he matched Adrian Ascanien. Not lagging behind the high schooler already an imperial mage. Personally capturing a problematic mage trying to join a grave-robbing cult…
Thoughts swirled. Lucas stared piercingly, his subtle smile seeming to read his mind—but Mecklenburg ignored it.
Lucas Müller being Strelitz-born was no issue. From dropout fiasco, he'd shown unreliability to Interior Ministry; low noble status minor; if heir Mecklenburg handed him over, nationality wouldn't hinder. So, I…
“…No, I'm in too.”
Lucas's eyes widened round. In sunset glow, blue eyes and lashes sparkled. Satisfied smile, he clapped Mecklenburg's shoulder.
“Great, Albert. Now we go to Munich together and become Pleroma.”