The Magic Faculty's Darling Baby Granddaughter 027
I had a gut feeling. Something was up. Something extremely annoying and troublesome.
"Um..."
Iris hemmed and hawed before confessing in a tiny voice.
"There's an observation class tomorrow."
"Observation class?"
What? Like a parent-teacher thing? They do that here at our age?
"Yes. One professor is coming."
"...Pardon?"
"Things moved so fast that I pushed hard to get the lab first and deal with oversight later."
Her desperate addendum was cute, but that didn't matter. Reality hit me like a truck. I could already picture how this would play out.
Aah, what an utterly unfair world for guys.
A few days ago, I'd nearly gotten my skull cracked open by a crystal ashtray my dad spun at me. And here she was—older than me, a professor no less—getting the full family-pet-princess treatment.
Just imagining it exhausted me. But what could I do? She'd tried her best, so I'd play nice.
"Anyway, got it. You worked hard."
"...You sure you're okay?"
Iris looked up at me with wide, surprised eyes. Still gauging my mood. Kinda pitiful.
"I'm not that unreasonable. The professor went all out to secure your lab, cover or no. I get it."
"...!"
Her face lit up like the sun. Not the vampire-pale intensity from a couple days ago, but a pure, innocent smile. Staring at it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.
No matter how I slice it... shouldn't I be the one in charge here?
Confirming and giving feedback like this? Our roles felt flipped.
"But Professor."
"Yes?"
"Don't go meeting people casually."
"...Why?"
"Just don't."
You'd get scammed in a heartbeat. But I couldn't say that to her face.
I stood, biting back my last urge.
Can't we do something about that outfit?
I couldn't straight-up call my mentor a camgirl streamer. Fuck.
I remembered something camera-like there. Should've recorded it. Damn! Shit!
Aaah... it was so damn fun. Gimme back my eye candy.
Then Iris asked urgently.
"What classes do you have today and tomorrow?"
"Intro to Administrative Studies and Ancient Empire History."
"Good. That's a relief."
"Relief?"
What the hell was relieving about that?
Iris warned firmly.
"If those professors show interest in you."
"If they do?"
"Shut it down hard. Say you've already joined a school of thought. Got it?"
"..."
No way. Again?
She was fretting that professors would drool and pounce every class I took. So the "relief" meant those weren't tempting offers anyway.
What, anxiety disorder much?
But soothing a mentor's worries was disciple duty, right?
"Got it. Don't worry."
"Good. I trust you."
Only then did Iris relax, leaning back on the sofa with a comfortable smile. Sunlight filtered through the window, shattering across her black hair.
It was getting old, but damn, she was pretty. Insanely pretty.
So give me back my dress! Who the hell took it?!
Click.
The brass key turned smoothly. Pushing the handle open released a puff of dusty air, untouched for ages.
"Nice."
One desk, one chair. Two empty bookshelves. Stark and empty.
But that's the appeal of a private dorm-office combo.
"Perfect."
A life where I could kill free periods without prying eyes. This was living. The dream.
I flopped into the dusty chair, spinning a full circle.
"Heh heh heh!"
Lab? Research my ass. Sleep studies, maybe? Bed first. Real mattress, not some foldable crap.
Professors crashed here for all-nighters anyway—who'd complain about a bed? Add a mini-fridge stocked with jerky and drinks, and paradise achieved.
No wonder everyone dreams of owning a place.
My healing spot, no dad watching. Bliss.
I reclined the back fully, clasped hands behind my head, feet up on the desk with twin thuds. Ultimate slouch pose.
"Ahh. Made it."
Personal lab right after arriving in the capital! You never know—you gotta live long to see shit like this!
"Mmm. Everything's on track now."
Not my pet anymore, but that pink pup Lily got adopted by Muller Viscountess—should live large. I'd chill here, hang with Iris occasionally, grab my diploma, and retire to the countryside. Perfect.
Then.
Tap tap!
A small knock from the window. Not the door—the window. Sixth floor?
"Huh? What?"
I startled, peering out. A familiar furball perched there.
"..."
A sparrow.
This little shit? No way.
Sparrows look alike, but I knew that smug glare. The way it cocked its head, flapping wings like "open up," gangster-style. Definitely him.
The sparrow from the incinerator crew that stole my jerky.
Unhappy with my stare, it pecked the glass again. Tap tap! Tap! Brazen as hell.
"Gangster bird? I fed you, now scram."
Arms crossed, I didn't budge. This was my sanctuary. No beasts allowed. Open once, and it'd turn into a feeder—word spreads fast. Plus, Lily-tainted critters? No thanks.
"Go away. No jerky."
I shooed it. The bird tilted its head.
Why no food today?
Like I can understand you, fuck off.
"Go to Lily. She's your meal ticket now. I won't come near you sketchy strays anyway."
What? Did it get it?
The sparrow stared, then whipped around, wings out, and zoomed off. A tiny dot vanishing.
Watching it go left a weird pang.
"...Sigh."
Now I felt uneasy. Hope Lily's fine. That crybaby better not be bawling somewhere. Did she meet the viscountess? Probably too soon.
"...Nah. Turn it off."
I shook my head hard. My fostering gig was done. No after-service.
Bond with your new rich owner! She'll even clean your toes for you!
Next week. Monday afternoon, Intro to Magical Studies lecture hall.
I stood at the podium, blankly staring at Professor Iris beside me. She looked confident at a glance, but I knew better now. She was watching my reaction.
No choice. Dead ahead, at the back of the tiered hall, a dozen white-haired old professors loomed like a backdrop, eyes gleaming.
"..."
How do those clear, piercing eyes fit in those wrinkly faces?
The inexplicable pressure from those geezers crushed the room's air.
I lipped quietly to Iris.
"One, you said?"
"...Sorry."
She whispered back.
"Thought it was just Professor Hiks... guess not."
Jeez. Total magic faculty baby granddaughter treatment. This was a full clan reunion vibe.
I kept my voice low, piling on the grief.
"You know how hard I stonewalled those admin and history profs last week like we agreed? 'Already have a master'—nailed it shut. So what good's me keeping promises if you're the hole?!"
"...Really sorry."
Shockingly sincere. Last Thursday and Friday, those two profs had eyed me slyly. Rumors of Wilhelm, Muller Viscountess, and Iris all gunning for me, probably.
Turning down those temptations was hell.
What's the point if I hold strong alone?
My own mentor not cooperating! Baa!
Then, the burliest, longest-bearded old guy among the backdrop pulled a thin wand from his sleeve.
"That's Professor Hiks."
That geezer?
He smiled kindly at me.
"No pressure, student."
"...Yes, sir."
"We've learned much from Professor Iris. How could we resist curiosity about the genius she chose?"
Fuck's sake.
"We old folks just want to feel that genius inspiration again. Relax—others are just spectators. No worries."
Spectators? Even zoo monkeys get stage fright with that crowd—no banana-peeling.
Professor Hiks flicked the whip-thin wand lightly. Whoosh!
A white chalk on the podium floated up. Then, from the back of the hall, it remotely scribbled formulas on the board. Tap, scratch, swoosh.
Insane precision telekinesis over that distance. Magic shit, right?
Students gawked.
"Whoa..."
"Professor Hiks's telekinesis..."
"No distance limits? From way back there?"
"Threading mana to the chalk like sewing a needle—hundreds of times harder!"
Thanks again, Speedwagon. Even city slickers like them saw it as bullshit. Good.
But impressive aside, my take differed.
Why not just walk up and grab it from that far? Waste of talent and mana.
Of course, I played scared and meek on the surface.
Tap.
Problem done, chalk settled dust-free on the podium. Students held breath, eyes sparkling. That finesse was archmage level, probably.
They're killing the vibe hard.
Even doting on daughters or grandkids has limits. If this were a meet-the-in-laws for marriage instead of master-disciple, I'd flip the table, flip the bird, and bail: "Nah, pass on this girl."
I swallowed a sigh, grabbed the chalk, eyed the board.
Tangled magic circle, equations. Archaic script mixed in. Tricky question.
Iris muttered softly beside me, eyes narrowing.
"This is..."
I side-glanced her frown. Pointless, though. Couldn't parse meaning anyway.
Her problems last week or this Hiks geezer's? All gibberish to me. White scribbles on green board.
I gripped the chalk tight.
Problem Solver
Remaining uses today: 2/3
Vmmm—
A mechanical ring in my ears, vision blurred. World desaturated slightly. Numb sensation, familiar floatiness enveloped me.
Right hand moved on autopilot, ignoring my will.
Scribble—
Chalk drew a single meaningless line on the board. Then stopped.
Huh?
I panicked.
What? This the end again?
Worse than last time? Shit, those geezers'll flip. Retry? Another use for more effort?
That thought flashed.
Suddenly, my right wrist thrashed like a tunnel-boring machine on steroids.
Tat-tat-tat-tat—!!!
Whoa?!
Hand a blur, racing across the board at impossible speed.