Entrance Ceremony with My Fiancé
Patrick Chevalier had a mountain of worries before the duel.
In his time as a debt collector, Park Sungwoo had mastered some martial arts, but only bare-handed ones.
That made holding a sword feel like a heavy burden. He had even considered paying extra to Barbatos just to gain sword talent.
But the moment he gripped the hilt, he realized there was no need.
The body moved on its own.
It remembered exactly how to swing.
And when he had killed the low-rank demon at the start, he had thought the eyes were only for seeing souls. He had been dead wrong.
With focus locked on the fight, he could see not just souls but the exact muscles of his opponent. Even if Moriat’s specialty, misdirection, was used, he stayed unconfused.
In truth, he had only to write the formula. The body handled the calculations perfectly.
And the result was the sword that had once defeated Liath—now turned aside with a surge of triumph.
“Didn’t I say you’d lose if you looked down on me, Professor?”
Lightning fast.
The blade was short.
Max efficiency, shortest path.
He thrust out the sword.
Flash
Light split.
Yet Patrick did not feel certain of victory. Moriat, who should have been blocked and unable to move, was suddenly moving again.
It was already too late to stop. Patrick gripped the hilt tighter and pushed forward.
Just before he reached the professor, moonlight once more formed beneath Moriat’s hand.
Third Form—Half Moon
No longer was observing muscles the only way to read the answer. He simply advanced with the will to cut in half.
Moonslight and flash collided.
Dust exploded across the training grounds. The swirling clouds hid both figures. When the dust settled, they stood facing each other, blades aimed at one another’s throats.
“One step short.”
“Still too soon, little one. You’ve swung a sword for years.”
Moriat lowered his blade.
“Still, it was splendid. You forced me to burn mana after all. The promise stands. You won. So collapse without forcing yourself.”
“How considerate.”
Moriat slowly pressed his forehead against Patrick’s. The young man accepted without resistance.
Consciousness faded.
Two months had passed since Patrick lost his awareness. He still moved through the academy with a heavy body. Barbatos had spent most of the time climbing the soaring academy towers to watch them.
Soon enough she grew bored and returned to his side.
“Speaking of which, Contractor. You gained quite a lot of emotions during that warrior duel last time. Have you no plans to pay the price?”
“I told you already. I have no intention of paying yet. I still have two months of leeway after eating all my subordinates. No rush.”
“Still…”
Barbatos clicked her tongue in disappointment.
“Soon or late, the price will come to you. Just hold on. Soon I’ll feed you emotions even stronger than today.”
“What are you going to say at the entrance ceremony?”
“To keep gaining emotions steadily, ordinary talk won’t suffice. I’ll probably have to use my power.”
“Heh. I’ll look forward to it.”
Patrick’s thoughts turned elsewhere. “Speaking of which, your lover keeps staring at us.”
“Lover?”
Barbatos pointed with a finger. There stood a golden-haired girl. The moment their eyes met, she snatched her gaze away in panic.
“What is that about?”
“To me, it’s not a bad idea for you and her to connect. Among emotions, love is especially dense. You know that. Why do you keep pushing her away?”
“Remember this: I will never date in this world.”
“Could it be the function is broken…?”
Patrick ignored the remark and entered the lecture hall. An attendant spotted him and led him forward. They reached a seat at the very front.
“Please sit here.”
The seat of the top graduate. It had clearly been reserved for the rank one of this entrance ceremony. The second seat would belong to the runner-up. At that exact moment the golden-haired girl arrived.
“…Why are you here?”
“Where I belong.”
“That seat belongs to the first place… Don’t tell me?”
“I believe that’s exactly what you’re thinking.”
“No way! Even if practical tests are rigged, you never studied at all back then!”
“You keep repeating the same words. That’s not for you to decide. The academy staff will judge.”
“Enough. Sit down. The atmosphere is unbearable.”
Liath’s face flushed crimson as she sat beside him. The moment they were close, her sweet scent drifted over. Barbatos clapped loudly from Patrick’s other side, clearly delighted.
Patrick had no desire to speak with her, and Liath only glanced sideways, never opening her mouth.
Time flowed on. After the newly enrolled students took their seats, the ceremony began. Simple greetings and formal congratulations ended. A girl stepped onto the stage.
She looked like a middle-schooler—yet wore full-body tights that did not match her childish frame at all.
The combination of an adult-like smile and navy twin-tails clashed with the clothing in the most childish way possible.
The solemn atmosphere shattered instantly.
The brown-haired woman beside her covered her face in despair. Yet the principal pushed forward with perfect composure.
“Hello~ I am Belkin, the academy’s principal!”
Principal Belkin.
Age unknown.
Species unknown.
Who she had been before, whether this form was real—everything remained veiled.
Yet one fact was certain: the continent’s only Great Sage, a mage whose skill was recognized by the entire continent. Even Barbatos, who called herself an ancient demon, acknowledged it.
“Truly a capable human.”
“How capable?”
“I could fight this seat for about ten minutes.”
Patrick had no way of knowing if it was true, but it sounded like high praise coming from Barbatos. Given her usual arrogance, the words were nearly excessive.
“Formalities are done. Let’s hurry! For this test, the first and second places come forward!”
Patrick and Liath rose and walked to the stage. Whispers spread through the crowd.
Many spoke of how pretty Liath was, that she was definitely from the Reinhardt family.
Yet when eyes turned to Patrick, no one recognized him.
“First place, Patrick Chevalier! Second place, Liath Reinhardt—come forward!”
“Wait, the first isn’t Reinhardt?”
“Is this real?”
“It must be. Otherwise why call us that?”
“Still, who exactly is this Patrick?”
Patrick ignored the murmurs and kept walking. A strange feeling brushed the back of his neck. He turned.
Liath Reinhardt stood frozen, fists clenched tight.
Once the names were called clearly, something shifted.
Was it realization?
Anger?
Blood trickled from Liath’s lips.
Instead of going to the principal, Patrick walked toward her.
It’s better this way than letting the ceremony ruin itself.
He took her wrist. She could not shout with people watching, but her eyes were wide with confusion as they met his.
Questions filled her gaze. Patrick answered none.
They stood awkwardly before the principal. She grinned. Beside her, Barbatos looked no different.
“Then, first place Patrick Chevalier, second place Liath Reinhardt—congratulations on your admission with such outstanding grades! Everyone, give them a round of applause!”
Thunderous clapping filled the hall.
“Large scholarships will be awarded later. Expect them? Or do you wish to say something to the students?”
“…I’m fine.”
“I do.”
“Oh, first place! If you’re really first, you should say something!”
Patrick turned toward the students. The unease had not faded. Discussions about who he was still raged—yet a far more dangerous subject lay beneath.
“Was the written exam rigged somehow?”
“No way the Reinhardt girl would come in second. She’s already proven herself.”
“The practical test must have been bribed. Too easy to manipulate.”
Ordinary jealousy—yet Patrick felt no anger. The jealousy was exactly the kind of emotion Barbatos would enjoy eating.
Jealousy itself was already a slow-growing emotion. But it was not deep enough. Something more had to be added. Above all, sustained emotional harvests required more.
“Barbatos. I will turn every emotion I’ve collected before and the ones gathering now into the price.”
At the word price, Barbatos smiled the smile of a true demon.
“How shall I do it? Lifespan? Power?”
“I want to demonstrate a large-scale magic that can even be imprinted on those fools.”
“How delightful. If that’s your wish, I will show mercy. Lend me control of your body for a moment. Harm cannot come to either of us.”
“Agreed.”
Consciousness remained, but the body began moving according to another will. A sensation not of mana brushed his skin.
“From now on, what I will cast is not magic. It is Mystery. It’s something you won’t see often. Consider it an honor.”
“Mystery?”
“While magic is the study of calculating spells to create phenomena, Mystery is the miracle itself. No spell, no cause, no sign—just the result. Feel it with your body. The little one behind cannot do this.”
Patrick’s hand moved.
“First, I touch space.”
Following Barbatos’s words, the hall seemed to fall under his hand.
Not illusion. Reality.
“Space mastered. Now the drawing begins.”
No object in his grip, yet the hand moved as if sketching.
“Imagine painting on a canvas. Imagine shoving your emotions and the life you lived into it.”
Barbatos continued, then laughed softly. “You probably won’t understand. That’s why I’m inserting my memories to expand it. Just remember this much: I’m about to give you a surprise.”
—Snap!
A clear sound rang through the lecture hall as a finger snapped.
A landscape unfolded.
It was a warm scene no ancient demon could have imagined. Sunlight streamed through windows. A wooden cabin sat surrounded by trees.
An old man and a little girl sat washing clothes, laughing together.
It was not merely a view. Emotions and sensations from inside the scene flooded the mind. Even more astonishing: the image was not seen with the eyes.
It felt like forcibly slamming a memory into the brain.
Barbatos laughed arrogantly.
“So you see, Mystery is what I call a miracle.”
Barbatos returned control of the body, then patted Patrick’s shoulder.
“The price has been paid in full. Now it’s your turn.”
“I intended it that way.”
Everyone remained stunned. Even the principal, who had reached the rank of Great Sage, stared at Patrick with dazed eyes.
Although he had not spoken, the meaning was clear in their expressions.
Who are you?
Patrick answered.
“I am Patrick Chevalier.”
He had not given the answer they wanted.