The Second Prince's Seclusion (2)
“Guhhh……”
“I… I survived.”
“No. Maybe I’m already dead…… I won’t know until I get home and check……”
After Zeke’s class ended.
The remaining half of the major students staggered off the training grounds in a state like Schrödinger’s cat—neither knowing if they were alive or dead.
Zeke stretched lightly, mentally reviewing who among them might actually be worth something.
That was when he spotted Serena rushing toward him, her face frantic.
“Instructor! Instructor!”
Haaack—
Haaack—
“S-so, haaack, Rust fa— haaack—”
“Calm down. Catch your breath first.”
Serena took several deep breaths before recounting what had happened in her recent class.
“……So, Dios the swordsmanship instructor is trying to sabotage my class?”
“Yes! He’s probably using the duel with the Second Prince as an excuse to stir up the noble students… and even influence the commoners!”
“I see.”
Zeke nodded.
Serena’s eyes flashed with frustration.
Argh! This dense man!
“‘I see’ isn’t good enough! Don’t you get what this means!?”
“I do.”
“You do, and you’re still so damn casual about it! He’s trying to keep you from meeting the minimum enrollment so your class gets canceled entirely!”
Serena cried out in exasperation, but Zeke just nodded calmly as ever.
The minimum was five students, right.
“Don’t worry, Serena.”
Zeke placed a hand on her head, chin resting lightly atop it.
“And… thanks for worrying.”
“……”
Zeke scratched his chin with his other hand, lost in thought.
No matter how much of a shit the Second Prince is, I wouldn’t have beaten him without thinking it through. But Dios… I figured the Second Prince’s crew would bitch about it, not him……?
Recalling the smirking face Dios had worn at the entrance ceremony, Zeke let out a hollow chuckle.
Ha, that fucker Dios. What a clown. -19 points. +1 from last time makes it -18 now. You eighteen-point bitch.
In truth, Zeke had run the calculations before ever laying a hand on the Second Prince.
Not just for justification, but ways to dodge the ensuing hassles,
and how to leverage him for future plans.
Only then had he accepted the duel.
Serena factored into those plans too.
He was currently crashing at her mansion.
Beating the Second Prince on a whim would drag her into the mess, no matter her duke’s daughter status.
Soy Spoon’s enrollment would suffer too.
She rushes over without a thought for herself, just to worry about me……
A smirk escaped him.
Idiot? Pure? ……
Whatever it was, it didn’t feel bad.
Over the past two days of drilling the majors, Zeke had gauged the average skill level of students in this romance-fantasy world.
Not a single usable one among them. All show, no substance.
The only remotely decent was Serena Yohayden, whose physical stats lagged but whose willpower shone.
And…… that Second Prince punk. Fine, credit where due. Solid hardware. Just ruined by his shitty training.
He’d planned to scout the elective students over five days before tracking down “that one.”
But thanks to Dios, he’d have to speed things up.
Problem is, I still don’t know who the guy is……
Zeke shrugged.
Eh, I’ll know him when I see him. Electives might be duds too. I’ll ask him to handle that.
Decision made, Zeke turned to leave.
“Instructor? Where are you going?”
“Got a place to be.”
“Instructor!”
“I’ll be back before nightfall. Won’t take long. Head to the mansion first.”
With that, Zeke headed toward the academy’s noble residential district.
A man sat in his study, papers piled like mountains before him.
His elegant script flew across documents, handling multiple tasks at once with practiced ease.
His eyes darted busily.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Nghhh……”
He stretched at the sound, lifting his head.
“Come in.”
His secretary entered, hair pinned up high, lips twitching in evident fluster.
“What is it?”
“……Zeke Clayman, the first-year swordsmanship instructor, is here to see you.”
“Huh? Already……?”
“Yes……”
“Heh, fast worker.”
After classes ended.
Back at his mansion, First Prince Ilouis Leonine let out a scoff.
He’d expected the visit, but not this soon.
“Fine, send him in.”
“Yes.”
Creeeak—
The secretary left, and soon the door opened again.
A man with a razor-sharp aura strode into the study.
He planted himself before Ilouis, face impassive.
Ilouis spoke first.
“So you’re Zeke Clayman.”
“That’s me.”
“Even that archaic speech matches the rumors.”
“……”
Ilouis bit his lip, studying Zeke.
Why was he here? Obvious with a moment’s thought.
Seeking protection from the Second Prince’s retaliation.
Currying favor.
Yesterday evening, hearing Rosnante had lost to some no-name instructor, Ilouis dismissed it as petty scheming.
He knew more about the Second and Third Princes than anyone.
Setting aside the fool’s brain and filthy personality, Rosnante’s swordsmanship was legit—even Ilouis acknowledged that.
But rumors proved true soon enough.
A powerhouse who’d crossed the Second Prince.
Still, just one man.
If Rosnante mobilized, even he couldn’t hold.
Protect him. Incur a debt.
Prime recruitment material.
But a knight-captain-level enigma dropping from the sky raised alarms.
No other intel on him yet…… Desperate already?
Zeke Clayman’s strength was alluring, but the man himself could be poison.
Hiding such power until now? Suspicious.
I sent out inquiries, and he shows up the next day.
Safety secured either way—his visit would leak fast.
Ilouis decided to gauge him personally.
Let’s test him.
“Didn’t expect you to come to me.”
“That’s informal.”
Ilouis frowned.
What the hell?
Never imagined starting like this.
This wasn’t academy grounds.
There, he honored his father’s edict with formal speech to instructors.
But this was private—his mansion.
No deference to royalty in sight.
“Outside academy walls, I don’t need to humor you with formality.”
Zeke’s brow furrowed slightly, then he nodded.
“I see. Informal permitted.”
This guy—what the fuck is he?
A type Ilouis, versed in countless dealings, had never encountered.
He masked his fluster with a smile.
“Right, haha. Thanks. Straight to business, then. You want my protection, yeah?”
“Mm.”
“But…… why should I?”
“And send a few students too. Your people or not, doesn’t matter.”
The bastard just demands, ignoring the question.
As if certain of compliance.
……Is this even a conversation?
Ilouis’s eyes narrowed.
……Or does he have some other ace?
His mind raced.
Zeke swallowed a sigh the moment he saw the First Prince.
Shit, definitely a different breed from the Second Prince punk. Way more headache-inducing.
Slender face, frail build, sickly vibe.
Shoulder-length hair made Zeke’s eye twitch.
Royal trait—blond too.
Every word grated.
That constant smirk looked like a bad mask.
What? Gentle and refined personality? Bullshit.
Good or bad person? Debatable.
But personality? Insidiously calculating, profit-obsessed.
Used to puppeteering people.
Zeke, ready to play it by ear, locked in his approach.
Bend once, and he’d get entangled, squeezed dry.
Ilouis looked up, thoughts concluded.
“Fine, that’s easy enough. But why should I?”
“You want to check the Second Prince.”
“What……?”
“If not you, I’ll go apologize to him. Teach him the sword.”
“!”
Of course it’s a bluff. Like hell I’d apologize. Could teach him some blade work, maybe.
But Ilouis clamped his mouth shut.
Rosnante…… Yeah, trash through and through, but dead serious about the sword.
A stronger foe apologizes, offers lessons?
After crushing him unscathed in a honor-bound duel?
Could frame it as proof of skill—and mercy out of respect.
Pissed himself in front of students…… But that’s self-inflicted. Hard to blame this guy…… Spread rumors? No, bad play.
Ilouis’s forehead burned as his mind spun.
His personality—he’d reject at first. But soon realize: chance to learn from a monster. He won’t pass it up. Forge master-disciple bonds, empower him? His forces multiply! And they graduate together in four years……!
Gooseflesh prickled his arms.
Still, unsure if Zeke truly grasped Rosnante’s nature.
“Zeke Clayman.”
“That’s in—…… Ah, right. Continue.”
“……”
His forced smile twitched. Unadaptable bastard.
“You’re certain the Second Prince accepts? After that humiliation before students?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“If he still eyes the throne, my class is his only shot. Just changes how he enters. Accept my apology or not—that’s it.”
“……!”
Ilouis’s gaze on Zeke trembled.
Fists clenched audibly.
He realized what he’d overlooked, fixated on personality and defeat.
With time, he’d have seen it too.
But it blew up yesterday.
And Zeke strikes the gap.
No time for countermeasures…… Terrifying. Not Rosnante’s nature—he reads the board! How far planned?
Lamieli Academy teemed with high nobles’ heirs.
To claim the throne, both princes needed images, allies, graduation here.
He held the edge—first mover.
But one man could outweigh multitudes.
A talent like Zeke Clayman.
This sudden variable shook his tower.
Of course, Zeke had cooked this up the day of the duel challenge.
That instant.
‘Heard enough? Now kill each other.’
Zeke smirked inwardly at the scheming Ilouis.
“Divide and conquer” was obvious from his view.
He’d planned to drag the male-lead-candidate Second Prince into class anyway.
After total defeat on day one, Rosnante’s path to regaining support?
Poach Zeke.
But Zeke had no intention of rolling over or apologizing.
Could provoke the hothead into rough tactics.
Hence, his rival.
Dark fantasy days. Angels and demons mutual-destruct event was sweet.
Ilouis’s involvement neuters rash moves.
He’ll play cautious, hunting flaws instead.
Mutual checks scatter focus from Zeke.
Bonus: Ilouis’s people in class? Welcome.
Blond idiots gotta fight blond idiots.
Ilouis laughed hollowly, smile cracking unnoticed.
“Hahaha. Amusing logic. But odd—why me first, not him?”
Ah, this prick keeps probing. Got it, but pissing me off.
“Right. Off to the Second Prince, then.”
Zeke turned as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
“W-wait!!!”
Ilouis shot up, voice shrill.
“Hm? I know his place too. What?”
“F-fine! Your way!”
Yeah, asshole. Just straightforward from the start. Nice and easy.
Zeke nodded, sensing more to squeeze.
Hmm, what he needed now……
“Oh, got any mana stones lying around?”