Kasian del Parne. In this class, you get an A+.
Eureka.
"Different colors! Different fabrics! Different textures! Just swapping shirt and blouse combos gives you dozens of styles!"
"Ah."
Iris let out a quiet gasp.
"So that's a thing."
"It is! Of course it is!"
Ceria shook her head with a sigh, unleashing a fact bomb.
"Sigh. You're always like this—fine with magic, but weirdly dumb otherwise. That brain of yours is just decoration when you're not crunching mana calculations, huh?"
That was why she called Iris an idiot genius.
Iris cleared her throat, her face flushing red.
"But Iris."
"Yeah?"
"That disciple of yours—he must be something, right? For you to care this much."
"...He's impressive."
A strange smile crept across Iris's lips.
"Where?"
"Huh?"
"Where's he impressive?"
"He's just a genius."
"Never thought I'd hear you evaluate someone else like that. Really makes you wanna stick around this world longer."
That was when it happened.
Knock knock.
'Again?' Four times already. Looked like today was another day to clear out the lab.
"You've got a visitor. Anyway, we're done here—I'm off."
"Okay."
As Ceria opened the door, Iris flinched.
Standing there was someone with zero reason to visit. Dark, tanned skin and rough leather clothes—the polar opposite of the refined style Iris wanted to show Kasian. It was the Muller Viscountess.
She stepped aside for Ceria to leave, a thick smile on her lips.
"Professor Iris. Got a moment?"
Why was she here? Iris had no clue.
But her instincts screamed: Clear the lab now.
Evelyn's shoulders trembled faintly. She must've been pissed with nothing to say.
'Why'd you start shit first, then?'
She'd picked the fight and hadn't even broken even—yet here she was, playing the victim. No wonder "persecution" had hit her so hard.
Evelyn stood there forever, then clenched her fist.
Sending her off like this would leave a bad aftertaste.
Just as she whipped around to leave—
"Hold up a sec, Your Highness."
"..."
Evelyn glanced back, glaring daggers. Her eyes were so venomous, it made me think she's the real villainess, not Elisia. Like she'd behead me any second.
God, I just wanted to ditch and run.
But I was max-level at social survival, the Parne family's king of staying alive, wasn't I?
"You're too worked up. Calm down first."
"What did you say?"
"You treasure your pride, right? Don't ruin that lofty image."
"...!"
Evelyn's eyes shook. She was a perfectionist—holding the imperial duty to be elegant and composed everywhere, anytime, above her own life.
"If you don't wanna kick yourself under the covers later, take a deep breath. Lots of eyes watching."
Okay, the "eyes" were just me, Lily, and the jerky-portal beast trio—but still.
Silence hung for a moment.
Evelyn bit her lip hard, then slowly started breathing deep.
Just humiliating her and calling it quits? That'd screw me over in the end. In a world where status was king, getting marked as the guy who shamed the princess? No upside.
A bit later.
Evelyn spoke in a voice chilled to ice.
"...I went a bit far back there."
Oh. An apology? Classy upbringing shows.
I nodded politely.
"Appreciate it."
Secure the high ground now—no backlash later.
But Evelyn's brow twitched again.
Why? Hoping I'd chime in with "I was rude too"? Nah.
You fucked up. I'm not apologizing.
"...Then."
With nothing left to say, Evelyn turned and vanished the way she'd come.
"Whew..."
Exhausted. Dealing with prof's mood in the morning, then princess's meltdown. Ten bodies wouldn't cut it.
That was when—
"Um... you okay?"
A timid voice from behind.
Oh. Right.
That's when I realized: I'd just shown the crown prince's sister me alone with someone.
"..."
I turned slowly to look at Lily.
She gazed up with worry.
This was a bomb. A time bomb.
Lily rolled her eyes anxiously at my silence.
"Big trouble?"
"Trouble how?"
"Saying that to Her Highness..."
Fair worry. Evelyn had trembled then tucked tail.
Any normal noble? "How dare you to Her Highness? Execution." No argument.
'Of course not okay.'
But that wasn't the real issue.
Couldn't tell her that, though.
"Nah, not that. Just... adult stuff."
"Adult stuff?"
"Yeah. So don't worry—go your way. I'm busy too."
Last thing: if Evelyn snitched to her bro, "That saintess Lily? With a barbarian?"—my loss.
Priority: bail.
But.
Pat pat.
"..."
As I walked, little footsteps trailed.
Stop, she stops. Go, she goes.
'Fuckin' hell.'
I spun around.
"Why're you following? Stalker?"
"Huh? N-no!"
Lily flailed her hands in panic.
"I'm heading to class too?"
"Class?"
No way. Right?
"What class?"
This huge academy, thousands of lectures—odds of overlap?
This was one of two paths out of the incinerator zone.
"Intro to Tactics."
Damn. Same as me.
"Wait, saintess taking tactics? Temple cool with that?"
"W-well... it's a required liberal arts..."
Fuck. Why's Intro to Tactics a core elective in this insane academy?
Made me wanna burn the curriculum.
Decision time: block even walking together.
"Fine. Same class—can't help that."
I drew a hard line.
"But separate till the room. Three meters—no, ten."
"Huh?"
Lily's eyes went bunny-wide.
"Why? Walking together's fun, not boring..."
"Not fun. Very not fun."
"I don't mind your bad rep rubbing off!"
Lily clenched her fist heroically.
"I'll explain! Say Kasian-nim's a good guy!"
Jesus. Too pure.
Her clueless self-sacrifice made my chest swell—really.
"I mind."
I cut it off.
"Forget the distance thing already?"
"Oh..."
"Go ahead. I'll go slow."
My firmness deflated her.
"...Okay."
Lily trudged forward, shoulders slumped, staring at the ground. Pitiful sight.
But I steeled myself. Necessary—for both of us.
But.
Glance.
Ten steps in, she paused, peeked back slyly.
'Not coming?' her eyes asked.
"..."
I gestured firmly: Go.
She started again.
Another ten. Peek.
'Hurt' plastered huge on her face.
I ignored, gestured again. She toddled faster, shoulders sagging.
That back... guilt-trippy as hell.
Pink hair swaying in the wind made my heart flutter too.
'...Goddamn.'
I clutched my face.
Dangerous. Real dangerous.
Wanna kidnap her home, stuff her with treats. Bribe with jerky—she'd follow.
'Seriously wanna snatch her up.'
Temple finds out? Blasphemy pyre, instant.
But she's too cute. What to do?
I smacked my lips, waited till the gap was safe, then walked.
"Whew, my fate."
Intro to Tactics. Please, just pass quietly.
Intro to Tactics classroom.
I plopped in my usual spot: back door window seat by the assigned row.
Murmurs around? Auto-muted.
I had bigger irritants.
Lily's gaze—from same row, few seats over.
Amphitheater style— "next to" meant straight across.
Meaning: every peek hit me dead-on.
Head toward blank board, but eyes rolled my way periodically.
'...Why's she staring? Creepy.'
Cuz I ghosted her on entry? Hurt?
I never acted friendly before.
Chin on hand, staring out window, I thought.
'Even in rom-fantasy world, emotions don't unlock with jerky.'
World's a bit screwy, sure. But people are people—NPCs? Nah.
Why I figured reincarnation early.
Dad alone proves it—not normal.
But Lily—trauma bomb. Reincarnated after storms—drops guard for snacks?
Trusts me why?
This nagging tied to incinerator bench: 'Plot's veering off?'
Fatigue hit. Eyes squeezed shut.
'Fuck it, whatever.'
Stress off! Class ends—home, early bed.
Classroom air froze.
Old prof on podium—white hair slicked back with pomade—jabbed air with baton.
"Kasian del Parne. In this class, you get an A+."
"..."
I gawked, jaw dropped.
'...No, fuck, why again?'
Just half-assed: "Why grunts and supplies with elite knights/mages?"
Didn't wanna stand out—tried "careful" lazy this time.
"Infantry claims land, plants flags—numbers. Feed 'em good or armed guys scheme, don't follow orders." A+ insight? Basic from Korean vet sergeant.
Prof's eyes: hearts popping.
...Blame prior dumbasses.
What? "Imperial duty includes defense"? "Builds community/patriotism"?
Desk-jockey bullshit paving my way.
"Such insight—from history dives, war sims! True general material!"
Nope. Just barracks wisdom.
Prof bounded down, thrilled.
"Now, Kasian—your take on prior answers? Critique freely."
"Huh? Really?"
"No sacred cows in debate! Go!"
Turning me into academy celeb on purpose?
I glanced front.
"Defense duty congrats!" guy.
"Community/patriotism!" orator.
Both twisted, glaring.