The Pig Professor's Snobbery
Chattering busily with the staff member managing the interviewees, I gave my name and was directed to the waiting room. It was packed with parents and students, all dressed in far finer clothes than ours. They sipped coffee and nibbled on pastries while chatting amiably.
"Oh, you're the Marquis from there?"
"Yes, and aren't you the cousin of Princess So-and-So?"
It was the kind of ultra-elite conversation that felt worlds away from us. They glanced our way briefly, then dismissed us like so many pebbles. We found an empty seat and sat down. The other parents were deep in conversation with their children. We couldn't join in—the atmosphere wouldn't allow it.
"Dad, don't get discouraged."
"Does Dad look discouraged to you?"
"Yeah."
I fell silent. The Imperial Guard handled combat, sure, but they also received the Emperor's guests—and those guests were at minimum from count families or higher. Among the nobility, only the great houses with deep history and roots actually had audiences with the Emperor. I'd faced down plenty of those "real" nobles before; no way was I intimidated now. I just smiled quietly and waited our turn.
"Miss Elizabeth Valentine and Mr. Leo Valentine. This way, please."
After about half an hour, the staff member called us. I straightened my clothes in the full-length mirror on the wall and followed.
"Don't be nervous. You'll do great."
Elizabeth patted my back. I felt a bit awkward.
"Feels like the interviewers got swapped out."
"I'm not nervous."
"A little tension's good for you."
The staff member opened an ornate wooden door. It was the principal's office, with the principal's desk and a pair of facing sofas in front. Two middle-aged people sat on the sofas: a fat man and a woman with glasses.
"Please, have a seat."
The stern-looking woman with square glasses spoke. The fat man gave us a sour look, then glanced at the papers.
The woman continued. "First of all, welcome to Lenz School. Please make yourselves comfortable. Feel free to have some tea."
Her words were exceedingly polite, but the chill in the air was unmistakable.
"We have three interviewers, but one unfortunately has a stomachache and stepped out to the restroom. They'll be back shortly. Our apologies."
Her expressionless face—neither smiling nor frowning—made the room feel heavier. The sour scent of coffee stung my nose.
"Elizabeth Valentine. A beautiful name. May I ask how you chose it?"
"It's my wife's name—the mother of my child. She's the woman I loved most, and still love. She suggested it."
"So your wife..."
The woman pressed on. She seemed to be leading the interview.
"Sadly, she passed into the Lord's embrace right after giving birth."
"I see. That must be heartbreaking."
This time, the fat man on the left spoke up for the first time. He crossed his legs lazily, his tone dripping with false sympathy.
"The papers say Valentine family. When did you take the name? It wasn't your original surname, was it? What was the job of the ancestor who acquired it?"
The Valentine house had once been a prestigious noble family, wiped out in a war with no heirs left. In later generations, commoners snapped up extinct noble surnames—never ones still in use. Valentine was the bestseller among them. The fat professor was zeroing in on that.
But this wasn't a question; it was an interrogation. I hadn't expected it, so I spun a quick backstory.
"He was a hunter. Gamekeeper and hunter for the Montpart family. He took down a two-headed bear monster and made a fortune."
"Bought the surname with that money, eh? Lucky break. While we're on family, what's your asset level like?"
The man's questions were crossing lines fast. I glanced at the woman interviewer. She knew it wasn't right, but the mood wasn't one for intervention. An awkward silence hung in the air until the fat man tsked impatiently.
"But why the gloves?"
"Didn't want to offend with the sight."
"How bad could they be? Look at mine—callused and nicked from years of pen and paper."
He raised his hand like it was a trophy. That's when Elizabeth yanked off my black glove from my right hand.
"..."
"..."
It was answer enough. The glasses woman cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Ahem. Mr. Valentine, what do you consider the most important value in raising children?"
"Conviction. Whether they succeed or fail, it keeps their path steady."
It was a question I'd prepared for, and I thought I'd nailed it. But her reaction said otherwise.
"Hmm... I see. And why did you apply to Lenz School?"
"Because it's the best in the world, of course. Any parent would want that for their child."
Too generic? Their faces grew colder.
"Noted. Now, a question for Miss Valentine. A family needs both father and mother for balance, doesn't it? Must be hard without one."
"Dad's so kind, I've never really felt it."
"You did well in elementary school—recommended by the principal and passed the first exam. Does your father teach you?"
"A little. He helps with the hard stuff. I do the rest myself. I want to learn more, but Dad's busy."
"And what do you do for work?"
Elizabeth froze at the question about my job.
"Uh, well..."
"I work construction."
I answered honestly. No point lying—it'd come out quick enough. Better to own it clean.
"...Construction?"
The glasses woman's face twisted.
"Yes. Hauling stones, hammering, pulling ropes—that sort of thing."
"...Apologies, but what's your final level of education?"
Final education. The bluntness drew a chuckle from me. Mine was a PhD in combat magic from the Imperial Academy. Schvalier had given it to me when I hit 6th circle and joined the Guard—something I treasured alongside my uniform.
"None. Never went to school."
I hid it. In my current identity, I hadn't had any formal education. Truth was, aside from the Academy, my parents hadn't bothered sending me to regular elementary, middle, or high school—too expensive, they said.
One sentence from me, and the room's atmosphere shattered. The woman didn't hide her contempt; the fat man tsked openly. The silence reeked of disdain.
I felt disappointed. So this was the level of the "top school." I'd half-expected something like this, but the naked snobbery was almost comical.
"Sigh. What makes you think you can get into this school?"
The interview seemed dead; the fat man went straight for the jab.
"No education, no job, no mom. Kid, did you beg to come here?"
"..."
"You should've done your homework on the level here. Know what kind of kids come? All from noble houses—not just local. Princes from Britannia, princesses from Espanya. Commoners? Handful, and even they're doctors, lawyers, mages. Different league."
The bastard. The pig was blabbering on...
"Pig bastard's chattering away."
Elizabeth muttered it.
"Hey...!"
I thought it too, but you can't say it...! Too late—I tried to cover her mouth, but the words were out.
"...What?"
"...Miss Valentine."
The fat man looked like he'd misheard; the glasses woman glared with open hostility. Far from shrinking under their stares, Elizabeth smirked.
"What?"
"What, what? WHAT?!"
The fatso twisted like he was having a fit as he shot to his feet. I was speechless. Had my daughter always been this bold?
"Mr. Valentine! How the hell did you raise your daughter?!"
The fat pig professor bellowed at me. Like yelling would fix it.
"Looks like I did a damn good job. Elizabeth, I'm proud of you."
I stroked her head demonstratively. What a kid. She beamed, eyes crinkling, and hugged me tight.
"Hehe."
"Y-You...!"
"Mr. Valentine, Miss Valentine. Do you even know who you've insulted?"
The glasses woman took the pig's side, her tone screaming you picked the wrong fight.
I shot back seriously. "And what about you? Dead silent while the pig insults us, but the second my kid speaks up, you're all over us."
"Playing word games?"
"I'm dead serious. We came here in earnest. Not to be disrespected, but at least treated like people. We're not here for lectures on 'knowing our place.' Isn't basic decency the hallmark of intellectuals?"
"...Ha. You picked the wrong fight. Defaming a Lenz professor? That's no light crime. Apologize now!"
Tension crackled as, unexpectedly, someone entered the interview room.
"What's going on here?"
"P-Principal!"
The fat professor and glasses woman jumped at the man behind me. I was a little surprised too. He widened his eyes in shock at the sight of me.
"Mr. Valentine? And Miss Valentine. You're here for an interview?"
It was Felix Ladenburg, the man I'd met before.