Chapter 017
……Your face is red, isn't it?
"Haa……."
Evelyn scowled the moment she stepped into the professor's office. I'm in a foul mood. Even calling it "foul" felt too crude for the refined etiquette of the imperial court, but nothing else could capture how she felt right now.
Why the hell is this happening? Her red eyes flashed sharply.
Why is a total lowlife like that Professor Iris's disciple?
It was the position she'd idolized, the goal she'd set even before enrolling. The empire's greatest genius. The youngest professor in the magic department. The one and only direct disciple of the lofty, perfect Iris von Evergarden. That honor should rightfully go to someone noble and brimming with talent like herself—a prepared prodigy.
And who had snatched it away? Parne's barbarian.
The starving second son.
Parne's illiterate.
The man who'd somehow claimed this ridiculous triple crown of insults. Evelyn bit her lip hard.
How does one person collect three nicknames that drill straight through the earth's core and into the planet's nucleus? In less than a month, not even a full year? At that point, it was talent. A talent for staining the empire's history, of course.
Her gaze swept over the reception sofa. While Iris had turned away to prepare tea, Evelyn was picking her seat. Three single-person sofas in total. One was the head seat, occupied by Iris's bag and cane. Of the remaining two, the cushion on the right was subtly sunken.
The clear remnant of that barbarian's ass having just crushed it.
……
Evelyn's eyebrow twitched.
I'd die before sitting where that barbarian's warmth lingers.
She sat on the left sofa without hesitation, clutching her dress skirts as if avoiding filth.
Her goals upon entering the academy had been crystal clear. For Princess Evelyn, wasting even a single day of her life was an unforgivable sin. At the top of that list—marked with five stars for utmost importance—was becoming Iris's disciple.
But that plan had gone off the rails from the start.
Two catastrophic scenarios flashed through her mind.
[Disaster 1: Shared Disciple] If she became an additional disciple? She'd have to share the same space, breathing the same air as that shameless barbarian for her entire academy life.
[Disaster 2: Hierarchy Established] Academy rules followed a grade system, but mage lineages under apprenticeship prioritized entry order as seniority. Meaning she'd have to treat that brute as her direct senior and call him "Senior."
……Horrifying. Just imagining it made her want to vomit.
She had to erase it. Absolutely.
I won't accept it. Never. That guy as my senior? Don't make me laugh.
Postponing—no, canceling—Kasian del Parne's discipleship and claiming the spot for herself. That was the only way to wash away this filthy feeling.
That was when it happened.
Clink.
The moment Iris turned from the cabinet with the teacups, she suddenly noticed the air in the room had grown chilly. Evelyn, arms crossed, tilted her head.
What? The weather's warmed up nicely.
The windows were closed, and it was a sunny afternoon. So why was a chill wind making her spine tingle?
Did they already turn on the AC this spring? She glanced at the ceiling, but the magic-engineered vent was quietly dormant. Weird.
Just as she thought that, Iris approached with the tray.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Highness."
"No, Professor."
Evelyn looked up with a polite smile—and froze.
"……Huh?"
Iris's face. The pale, aloof face of the black-haired witch-like professor. It was faintly flushed, peach-tinted. And her nape—good lord, why hadn't she noticed sooner?—was vividly red.
……Her face is red?
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. Her genius mind analyzed the situation in an instant.
1: The barbarian just left.
2: Professor's face is flushed red.
3: The room is cool enough to drop the body temperature.
Conclusion: Teaching that brute had driven her to such rage she'd broken out in a fever. How infuriating must he have been? How frustrating? A cool-headed mage hadn't even thought to use the AC—she'd urgently cooled the room with magic.
Is there any nuisance like him?
With utter conviction, Evelyn asked in a voice brimming with concern.
"Professor, were you troubled by the student who just left?"
"Pardon?"
Iris paused mid-motion as she set down the teacup.
"You seem a bit agitated. Your face is red, too."
"Ah……."
Iris hurriedly cupped her cheeks.
"No. It's not that."
Iris's eyes wavered. She seemed about to say something, lips parting, but instead gave an awkward smile.
"Teaching got me a little heated... my energy just spiked, that's all. It wasn't anything negative like Your Highness is worrying about."
A blaring alarm rang in Evelyn's head.
Not anger... but enthusiasm from teaching him?
How long had she even had a disciple? And enthusiasm for that empty-headed fool?
Dangerous.
Evelyn sensed crisis on instinct. While she'd been dawdling, that crude, weed-like man she'd just glimpsed was stealing Iris's interest. She couldn't fathom how, but ignoring this would only make it worse. If true mentor-disciple bonds took root, it would be irreversible.
I have to step in. Before it's too late.
Her original plan was a graceful tea time, casually floating, "I entered this academy hoping for a great mentor like you." Then, over days, provide pretexts to excise that fool. Offer the reward of her slipping into the vacancy. Politics in daily life was just that.
But no time for that now. Full revision.
Evelyn set down her teacup, face resolute, and spoke.
"Professor, the reason I came today... is because I have a proposal."
"Yes, go ahead."
Iris replied calmly, a faint red still lingering.
Evelyn swallowed dryly. A gamble on her pride.
"Do you... know that I'm majoring in magic studies?"
Silence.
Iris sipped her tea. She answered flatly.
"Of course."
"……!"
"Everyone in the capital—and the empire—knows Your Highness has exceptional magical talent. Even a research hermit like me has heard. They say even the imperial mages are impressed."
Thump, thump, thump.
Evelyn's heart pounded wildly. Her lips twitched uncontrollably. This wasn't the usual noble flattery. This was Iris von Evergarden. History's youngest professor. An arrogant genius. And she acknowledged her talent.
Thrilling.
Yes... Professor knew about me after all.
Her perfectionist ego fulfilled, her self-esteem soared to the heavens. She met Iris's eyes with confident resolve.
"Then, Professor."
No more hesitation. Push out that fool and set everything right.
"Would you take me as your disciple?"
She'd accept, obviously. If she'd taken that barbarian, there was no reason to refuse the empire's princess and proven genius.
But.
"Hmm."
Iris set down her teacup without a change in expression.
"Was that an order as royalty? Or a proposal as a mage?"
"……."
Evelyn's brow furrowed slightly. An order? Did she see her as some power-abusing vulgarian? A flicker of displeasure rose, but she quashed it.
Right. A genius worthy of teaching me needs that pride.
Easy women were boring. That arrogance, defying even power, stimulated the princess's own pride.
"The latter."
Evelyn answered clearly.
"I don't want to be a princess who's just good at magic. As one mage to another, I want your guidance."
"Very well."
Iris stood.
"I like that spirit. I wasn't planning to take disciples originally, but thanks to Kasian, I've grown interested in teaching someone."
A shocking blow to her pride.
I only got this chance because of him?
"Then, let's have you solve a problem."
Iris pulled over a portable blackboard from the corner.
Rattle.
"A simple one. No pressure. Feel free to sit comfortably."
She picked up white chalk.
Tap, tap, tap.
Equations filled the board.
Evelyn watched tensely. What challenge? Complex calculations for multi-casting? Elemental serial design for stack overlap?
At tension's end, what appeared utterly shattered her expectations.
"There. All done."
"……."
Evelyn's brain stalled the instant she saw it.
This was... undergrad-level basics. Tough for a freshman, but any continuing student could solve it with fundamentals. Pure memorization.
What?
Evelyn's pupils shook. She could solve it blindfolded. So why would a genius archmage pose something this trivial for selecting a prized disciple?
Wait.
Her gaze shifted to Iris. Arms crossed, Iris watched her with an enigmatic expression.
This peerless genius wouldn't want a mundane answer.
It's a test to uncover the hidden meaning.
She swallowed dryly, rose from the sofa, and approached the board.
Surface answers mean elimination. It's not testing basic computation—it's probing the essence of magic hidden beneath!
Her hand trembled faintly as she gripped the chalk.
I have to find it. The true intent concealed in this problem.
Hell began.
Evelyn glared at the board, boring holes into it. The problem was so straightforward. But staring at it, idle thoughts began slithering into her mind.
Is she going easy because it's me?
No. Stop that complacent thinking. No way.
Then there's a hidden variable?
Probably.
Derive a creative interpretation from this? No, she wouldn't pose something so messy.
Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. Seeking invisible answers in a textbook problem felt like her head would explode.
She knew the standard solution. Write it, done.
But.
If I do... I'll just be treated like any other prodigy.
The same answer as everyone. A solution anyone could give. It wouldn't impress Iris.
I need to blaze a new path. Show otherworldly brilliance befitting a princess, leagues beyond that barbarian!
But it was hopeless. How do you extract new meaning from A + B = C? Nothing beyond appeared.
Is this... the wall?
Evelyn despaired. Instinct told her she couldn't deliver what Iris sought—not the obvious answer before her eyes, but the one beyond.
How much time passed? Her chalk-holding hand wandered in air; not a single dot marked the board. The room's air grew heavy.
Then.
Clink.
Iris set down her teacup.
"You should stop, Your Highness."
"……!"
Evelyn startled and turned. Iris stared coldly at the board—no, at her blank answer sheet.