Whoa, Check This First-Meeting Burn Skill 004
I leaned comfortably against the pillar behind me, arms crossed. I alternated between picturing that Crown Prince Louis de Leopold asshole I'd seen yesterday and Evelyn de Leopold.
Brother's a total stud, sister's a knockout. Their genes are stacked—it's bullshit.
The saying that God is fair is total crap. Looking at those siblings, it's obvious the guy was customizing them, dozed off, and botched the sliders. On the positive side, of course. Like, roughly, "Luck at one... whooooops! Accidentally dumped a whole sack!!!" And they reaped the benefits.
Evelyn de Leopold ignored the cheers and stares around her like it was only natural—or rather, a nuisance—and strode right to the front row. That must be what they call the dignity of nobility among nobles, imperial royalty.
...Pisses me off a bit.
Why is it that if I pretend not to hear, I'm a barbarian, but if she does, it's dignity?
"Wow, she's really pretty...."
"The Empire's Jewel—my eyes hurt just looking."
"Can't believe she breathes the same air as us."
I get it now. This damn looks-obsessed romance-fantasy world. Fucking spear-thrust worthy.
Still, I'll give her credit. She scraped up all my aggro for me!
Sure enough, no one was looking at me now. Even if a monkey does tricks at the zoo, if a top star suddenly shows up next to it, the monkey's just background prop number one.
I snuck a piece of jerky from my pocket and popped it in my mouth.
*
"Uh... Our school's illustrious history parallels the founding of the Empire... uh... You all are the Empire's future, its guiding lights...."
The principal's voice, magnified through those reading glasses, droned on in a hazy echo across the hall. If he'd used a proper magic amplifier, it might've been clearer at least.
"Look over there. That's the second son."
"Those pants are trash. Not even trying to hide he's a barbarian!"
Shouldn't they be louder than that at least? Their mumbling felt like a wide-area sleep spell.
I yawned hugely, mouth wide open, trying to stifle it.
"Haaah~."
Failed. Couldn't hold it. Tears even welled up.
A quick glance around showed a ridiculous scene. The freshmen who'd been sparkling with excitement earlier were already zoned out, some standing there with souls fully checked out.
Korea or here, principal speeches are sleeping pills. Universal law.
Couldn't he see it from the podium? Or did he know and keep going anyway? Regular torture technician.
The guy standing next to me started nodding off, then full-on headbanging. I matched his rhythm in my head, subdividing the beat to kill the boredom.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the speech wrapped up, and it was time for faculty intros.
"Next, we introduce our proud faculty."
The announcer's line roused the dozing students with a shuffle.
Stern-faced professors climbed the stage one by one, offering greetings. From the knight faculty's musclebound prof to the alchemy department's monocle-wearing one who looked stubbornly opinionated at first glance. All characters in their own right.
But when it was the magic engineering department's turn, the announcer looked awkward as he made the announcement.
"Regrettably, Professor Iris von Evergarden of the magic engineering department is absent due to personal research commitments. We ask for your understanding, freshmen."
The hall buzzed.
I picked at my ear while thinking, Who's that, you weeb? Profs skip out too? School's pretty lax.
But helpfully, the mustachioed noble kid next to me whispered explanations with his buddies.
"Oh man, Professor Iris again...?"
"Genius life, huh? Entrance ceremony's not even on her radar."
"Don't remind me. Youngest admission to the academy, top of her class graduation, and Empire's youngest professor ever—a magic prodigy. Was hoping to see her face, but yeah, holed up in her lab as expected."
"Rumor has it she proved one magic formula without eating for a week, just pure research."
"How honored would it be to study under her."
Thanks again, Speedwagon! Got some useful info.
Definitely not signing up for her classes. Dodged this semester too.
Korean classes have prof names like Han Hyun-ho or Hwang Chun-ho—hard to remember. Yanks have super distinctive ones, easy mode.
Iris von Evergarden? Gone, gone. No matter how I dug through my completed registrations, nothing even close.
Stuck-up, inflexible, lives in her own world. The type who looks at students like idiots going 'Why won't this work?'
Tangling with that high-spec type? Just exhausting.
I tuned out whatever the profs were saying and fiddled with the jerky hidden in my pocket.
"With that, the entrance ceremony concludes. Freshmen, please follow your individual schedules."
Oh. Finally over.
*
The crowd ebbed out like the tide right after. Others probably crammed their timetables Tetris-tight with noble duties and study zeal from first period, but not me.
Crazy? 9 AM classes are human rights violations.
Of course, if word got to Dad, my potato field wouldn't survive. So my clever ploy? Simple: Play nice early semester, show face in the morning and slack off.
The Palace Count's swamped. Like execs ignoring family at big corps.
Hold out a month, and I can daytime-school like a pro.
Already finger-pointed as un-noble-ish, so during school hours, I'll nap peacefully in the mornings.
Clomp clomp.
I headed opposite the lecture halls, to the academy's most remote spot.
Target: An untouched garden corner. Shady enough, cushy grass—not quite my barn's haystack back home, but good for leaning back and chilling.
"Oh, perfect spot."
Far off, under a massive old tree, dense bushes marked the sweet spot. Cozy as my bedroom.
As I approached—
Rustle.
Something poked up over the bushes. Wavy, cotton-candy pink hair swaying in the breeze.
......Ah, fuck.
Swear almost slipped out loud. Knew who it was. Impossible not to.
That coloring plastered dead-center on this damn romance novel's cover.
Plus, saw her at the banquet yesterday. The one the hotshot Crown Prince Louis de Leopold's gaze skipped Elisia von Rosenberg for.
Saintess Lily.
The original heroine, no doubt hiding here from the prince's creepy flirting and villainess Elisia von Rosenberg's death glare.
Great taste in hideouts, huh.
But no time to admire. Tangling with that ticking bomb? Exhausting.
Standing by the protagonist means extras get splash damage and drop dead—genre rule one.
Sneak away quiet. I saw nothing.
I turned to slip off silently.
Right then—
Crash!
"Meow!"
A stray cat rocketed out of the bushes.
"Ah!"
Then the pink-haired girl sprang up like a coil, chasing it—and locked eyes with me mid-awkward escape.
Shit.
"......"
"......"
Her pastel light-green eyes widened at me. Sparkle from cat-chasing turned wary.
Damn it.
Too late to bolt, too close to play dumb.
Lily stared, lips twitching. Looked like she was gonna say something, mumbling—then her first words hit like a truck.
"Uh...... barbarian......?"
Whoa. Check this first-meeting burn skill.
She must've caught "Parne barbarian" or "starving second son." Still, straight to my face? Barbarian?
I was about to clap back in disbelief when—
Grrrowl~
A faint, thin rumble tickled my ear. Source? Her stomach, right in front of me.
"......"
"......"
Silence crashed down.
Lily's face flushed beet-red like a ripe radish. She clutched her belly, flummoxed.
Jesus, human.
I tsked pityingly.
"Calling someone barbarian to their face on first meet? Rude much."
"S-Sorry......"
"Thought saintesses lived on dew? Your tummy clock's brutally honest, though."
"S-Sorry! I, uh, skipped breakfast......!"
Lily jolted and bowed 90 degrees.
If my past-life memories held, temple life was rough. Plus dodging the prince meant no time to eat.
I rummaged in my pocket. Rustle made her flinch back—scared the barbarian might pull a club.
But out came a salty, nutty-smelling brown lump.
"Here, take this at least."
"P-Pardon......?"
"What? Never seen jerky?"
I slapped a piece into her hand. The nuttier you chew, the better. Took research to perfect this taste.
Lily stared blankly at it in her palm. Total what-is-this face.
"It's from a barbarian, so tear into it savage-style with your hands. No forks or knives."
"......"
I walked off without waiting for a reply. Lingering would get annoying.
Jerky toss squares us. I did my part.
Clomp clomp. From behind my retreating back, a tiny sound.
"......Pfft."
A deflating giggle, super soft.
Yesterday villainess Elisia von Rosenberg laughed at my trash talk. Today saintess Lily cracks at the barbarian drip?
Pattern feels off.
Why do all these heroines lose it over me? Super sus vibe.
Looks like today's off to a rough start.
*
I bolted. Not for survival—strategic retreat from hassle.
Plopped my ass on a deeper bench under thick tree shade, finally breathed easy.
"Haa, living tired."
Leaned back, gazed at the sky. Sunlight shattered through leaves, dazzling.
Suddenly recalled that pink head from earlier.
Damn pretty, though.
Pastel light-green pupils? Even idol contacts couldn't pull that off. Scour America, Canada, Europe whites—nope.
What kinda genes?
Yesterday's villainess Elisia von Rosenberg's purple eyes were nuts too. No wonder he skipped her for the bimbo.
"Makes sense now."
What to call this? Top-Tier Visual Showdown?
That pink head wasn't just straight—high-end Cheongdam salon wave curls, pricey shit.
This romance world is a visual feast. Uniform designs hit guys harder than girls, but everyone's plastic-surgery pretty. Except me.
Mid solo hot-or-not rating—
Rustle.
Footsteps at my feet. Looked down: squirrel staring up. Glossy brown fur, living large.
"What, you domesticated? Scram."
Waved it off—no dice. Stood on hind legs, paws together.
Eyes locked not on me, but the jerky end in my hand.
Sniff sniff. Pro-level nose wrinkle.
......What? Carnivore squirrel?
Thought they did acorns. Prejudice? World has magic, dragons—squirrel munching meat? Fine.
Those beady eyes too sparkly—I surrendered.
"Here. Eat and beat it."
Tore a nail-sized bit from the end, flicked it.
Plop!
Squirrel snatched it lightning-fast, cheeks ballooning as it chomped. Then sparkly eyes back at me.
Gimme more.
The hell.
"Shit, nothing left for me—why's everyone after my snacks today?"
Humans, beasts—all beg food off me. What am I, a cafeteria?
Grumbling, about to pop the rest in my mouth—
Hop hop.
Bushes shook, out bounced a white fluffball. Rabbit. Plump as hell.
It parked next to the squirrel, nose twitching, staring laser-focused at my jerky.
I froze mid-chew, burst out laughing.
"Ha."
This ain't right.
I shot up, pointing.
"Hey, you psychos! Fuck, you're a herbivore for real! I know you munch grass, asshole!"
Slept through bio, but that's basic. Bunnies do carrots, not beef jerky!
But this rabbit ignored my yell like BGM, raised a paw.
Gimme quick.
"......"
I facepalmed.