Make Sure to Turn Off Your Alarms

In the game, she was officially known as Professor Estrada, though on player forums she went by a far less flattering moniker: That Bronze-Ranked Trash Professor Bitch. In truth, her full name was Bronze de Estrada.

Having logged countless hours in the game, I knew exactly how her curriculum operated.

No matter what the topic is, she always crams a practical discernment test into every single lecture.

Experiencing it firsthand was pure torture, but watching someone else suffer through it was peak entertainment. And for her very first class, the assignment was almost always Prop Hunt.

The objective was simple: locate the alarm clocks disguised as everyday classroom items, disable their alarms, and earn the right to escape the room. Naturally, it was a rigged game heavily favoring experienced second-years and veteran grinders, while leaving clueless freshmen and total noobs to smash their heads against a wall.

"An authentic Emerald Corporation luxury bag sitting right here in the lecture hall? That is far too suspicious!" Giselle declared, squinting sharply. "This must be an alarm clock disguised as designer leather!"

"Stop! That's my actual schoolbag!"

"Using such exorbitant luxury as a schoolbag?!" Giselle gasped, pivoting on his heel. "T-Then this petal-scattering mood lamp must be it! A frivolous luxury item with absolutely zero academic utility! It has to be an alarm clock!"

"Hey, that's mine! My older sister promised me that as long as I had this lamp, I'd become a popular kid no matter what academy I attended!"

"Good grief... Did her own sister just set her up for social assassination?!"

Poor Giselle. He had completely ground to a halt, bewildered by the sheer lack of common sense displayed by these frontier aristocrats, who were completely unlike the refined nobles of the Central Empire. Even through my veteran gamer eyes, the spectacle was baffling.

I couldn't fathom why students would drag such bizarre junk to school. My stomach churned just imagining how many precious Points they must have squandered obtaining official possession permits for all that clutter. If someone like me, sitting comfortably on a mountain of Points, felt this aggravated, an actual beginner player witnessing this nonsense would immediately develop an innate hatred for the nobility and start hunting for bamboo spears and guillotines.

Tsk, tsk. Pathetic little fools.

Their families had indulged them at first, but once those regional lords realized the brutal exchange rate between gold and academy Points, they would shudder in horror and slash their funding to ribbons. The destitute nobles would eventually beat their chests in agony, regretting the fortune they'd wasted on such useless trash. But Points already spent were never coming back.

Left to their own devices, these spoiled aristocrats would reap their own misery. Why waste bamboo spears and guillotines on bottom-feeders who were bound for natural weed-out anyway? They weren't an entrenched ruling class—they were just pitiful brats. True revolutionaries saved their guillotines for the real deep-state cartels.

Suddenly, the air split with a sharp hum.

Thud.

Sing slid her blade back into its scabbard with a crisp click, then marched forward to place the sliced remains of a cricket upon the instructor's lectern.

"Captured," she announced impassively. "The alarm clock that was leaping between desks and screeching incessantly."

"My, you actually caught it," Professor Estrada remarked, lightly tapping the cricket's severed head with her conducting baton. "That particular clock was tuned to a rather vicious difficulty for a first-year."

With a puff of illusion magic, the bisected cricket vanished, revealing two halves of a ruined clock.

Now that was the kind of privileged elite worthy of the guillotine! How in the world did a first-year swat an agile target that even second-years struggled to catch?

"However, school property has been destroyed," Estrada continued smoothly. "I instructed you to turn the alarm off, not pulverize it. The penalty fee is minus ten Points."

"……."

Sing's jaw clenched. Around her, a dozen other first-years who had been unsheathing their weapons—hoping to blindly hack at surrounding objects until an alarm clock broke—quietly and sheepishly put their gear away.

"There really was a penalty..." Isabelle muttered, her eyes wide with newfound respect as she glanced at me.

"Ahem. Didn't I tell you?" I puffed out my small chest. "Cramming your schedule with classes only multiplies the ways you can lose points."

Isabelle was blessed. She had the extraordinary luck of taking this lecture alongside an ultra-hardcore veteran who had mastered every single loophole for dodging academic penalties!

"Don't panic," I advised her in a stage whisper. "First, isolate one distinct ring from the cacophony and track the direction of the noise. Right there, you'll find an alarm clock disguised as something else."

"And once I track it down?"

"Even if its physical form is altered, the underlying mechanic still assigns one of its features to act as the 'off switch.' Just fiddle with whatever looks pressable, twistable, or pullable, and it'll trigger."

The moment I gave her the trick, Isabelle caught on instantly. Striding over to a storage crate filled with spare classroom supplies, she reached inside and pulled out an ordinary felt-tip pen.

Pop.

The second she tugged the cap off, the blaring ring abruptly cut out. A soft hiss of white smoke vented from the barrel, and the pen melted back into the brass casing of an alarm clock.

"Exemplary sensory perception," Professor Estrada praised, nodding approvingly. "Keen hearing is an indispensable virtue for a thief... Ah, excuse me. For an adventurer, that is."

"Thank you, Professor." Isabelle offered a polite bow, though her head tilted slightly in confusion. Did she just say 'thief'?

"This three-tier folding whiteboard is an asset that exists in no other classroom in this wing!" Giselle shouted nearby, his voice trembling on the verge of tears after enduring dozens of bizarre challenges. "Surely, none of you brought a personal three-tier whiteboard as your luggage, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right?!"

Fortunately, no bizarre aristocrat stepped forward to claim ownership this time. Giselle successfully slapped the release latch, deactivating the alarm, and carried it to the front.

"To have cataloged the inventory of neighboring lecture halls beforehand... Your preparedness is admirable," Estrada noted.

"For a merchant, scrutinizing the fixtures of an unfamiliar establishment is the absolute baseline, Professor," Giselle replied smoothly. "He who does not observe cannot supply."

"A magnificent creed. Infiltrating a mark's compound under the guise of delivering supplies is the bedrock of reconnaissance for any proper chivalrous phantom thief."

Professor Estrada wasn't even trying to hide her former profession anymore!

"Wait a minute... Is everyone who finds a clock going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to get labeled a burglar?" one student whispered anxiously.

"Then what? You wanna sit trapped in a room with ringing alarms for two straight hours?" another hissed back.

"You idiot, why don't we just walk out the door?!"

"Oh!"

"Hahaha! I'm outta here, you suckers!"

A brash first-year burst into triumphant laughter and bolted straight for the lecture hall exit. Just on the other side of the threshold, several second-years who had escaped earlier were waving their hands frantically, wide-eyed with panic, gesturing for him to stay back.

"Look at those seniors trying to gatekeep after saving their own hides!" the runner sneered. "Every man for himself! I make my own destiny!"

The boy bellowed boldly—right until his front foot crossed the doorframe.

CRACKLE!

A vicious arc of blue lightning detonated. The student convulsed violently, his hair standing on end, before collapsing backward onto the floor with a hollow thud, completely knocked out cold.

"W-What were the seniors mouthing through the glass?!"

"'Soundproofing barrier ahead. Any student attempting to breach the perimeter without the professor's explicit authorization will be incapacitated by high-voltage shock'!"

"Eeeek! Are they insane?!"

"What kind of educational institution tases its own students for walking out of class?!"

"I'm telling my mother!"

Professor Estrada twirled a strand of hair around her finger, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the melodrama.

"Will you please hurry up and locate the clocks? The longer you dawdle, the worse my migraine becomes."

Then why assign this sadistic trial in the first place, you old maid?

Driven by the very realistic terror of electrical immolation, the freshmen threw themselves back into the hunt. But terrified of incurring point deductions, none dared to smash anything. Instead, they meekly patted down chair cushions and stroked table legs like blind men wandering through a labyrinth.

I suppose anyone who actually had the wits to find one has already cleared it.

Twenty-nine students remained trapped inside. Out of twenty disguised alarm clocks, only nine had been resolved. Expecting these wide-eyed freshman NPCs to uncover the remaining eleven was pure fantasy.

Isabelle and Giselle turned toward me.

"Aren't you going to look for one, Orknodi?" Isabelle asked.

"I'm starting now. I gave them plenty of time, so no one can complain if I sweep the rest."

"If it's going to take a while, would you mind if I stepped outside first?" Giselle asked, rubbing his temples. "The ringing is beginning to rattle my skull."

"Ah, hold on just a moment, please. I'm going to bag every last one before we leave."

"Pardon? Whatever for...? Wait, don't tell me you're gunning for the professor's extra credit?"

Academic course credit didn't interest me in the slightest. But the other points up for grabs? Oh, I was drooling for those.

I kicked a loose cobblestone by the podium, flipping the latch beneath it. Before the dust even settled, I spun toward the plaster molding.

Snapping a concealed switch behind the wallpaper, I flicked a pebble up toward the vaulted ceiling.

The freshmen stood frozen, their jaws dangling open as I dismantled the room with terrifying precision.

"Orknodi is finding them at an insane speed...!"

"You only need one to leave! Why is she clearing multiple clocks?!"

"I know why!" one student cried out, tears of profound realization welling in his eyes. "Orknodi is doing this for us!"

"For us?!"

"If all the clocks are deactivated, everyone can leave without taking a shock! She's acting as a role model for our cohort—risking her own standing to rescue her fellow Group A classmates!"

"To think she has such a noble heart...!"

"How can a child be so utterly pure? She ought to care about her own well-being just a little bit!"

"Thank you, Orknodi! As a token of my eternal gratitude, I'll activate my lamp's violet aroma setting!"

You just wanted an excuse to play with your stupid lamp, you weirdo!

I glared exasperatedly at the glowing apparatus, but before I could scold him, a wave of cool, fragrant air washed over me. Suddenly, the ringing in my ears faded, and a burst of vigor surged through my limbs.

"Huh???"

Wait, this gaudy piece of junk actually gives a stat buff?!

I guess noble luxury goods weren't completely useless after all! With my headache lifted and fatigue wiped away, I tore through the room at double speed, snapping alarms left and right.

"Marvelous," Professor Estrada purred, watching me haul another armful of ticking devices to her desk. "That brings the count to nineteen. However, the final clock remains uncollected."

"You mentioned it yourself earlier, Professor," I chirped brightly, pointing a small finger upward. "You said the more we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slacked off, the worse your migraine would get. That final alarm... it's sitting right under your silk hat, isn't it?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Professor Estrada's lips.

"Magnificent. To think a single student would unearth eleven out of twenty clocks. That last one was cloaked beneath a sensory-disruption ward—a high-tier concealment spell—yet you seized upon my subtle verbal hint effortlessly."

"Hehe, it's just basic fundamentals!"

"Brilliant technique, peerless accuracy, and a chivalrous heart that looks after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the weak... You truly are a model phantom thief."

...That's supposed to be a compliment, right?

"Then we shall conclude today's session here," Estrada declared, tapping her baton against the wood. "All students remaining in the lecture hall will receive passing bonus credit for attendance. Furthermore, to those who disabled a clock, I shall award a bounty of one hundred bonus Points per device retrieved."

The classroom went dead silent before erupting into stunned gasps. Dozens of eyes snapped toward me.

"Wait... Did Orknodi just rake in eleven hundred Points from a single class?!"

"The final master clock carried a thousand-point bounty," Estrada added casually. "First-Year Orknodi shall be credited two thousand Points in total."

A chorus of envious whimpers broke out among the freshmen.

"Wah... With two thousand Points, I could have imported another luxury lamp!"

"I'm so jealous... I only needed fifteen hundred Points to get a pet permit for my puppy back home!"

"Quiet down, you fools!" another shouted back. "Orknodi found those clocks to save all of us! She didn't even know there was a point bounty attached! She was rewarded for her pure goodwill, so none of us have any right to complain!"

"He's right!"

"If anyone dares get jealous of Orknodi, I'll beat them up myself!"

As the freshmen rallied passionately to defend my honor, Isabelle and Giselle slowly shifted their gazes toward me. Their eyes were narrowed in heavy, knowing squints that practically screamed, You knew about the bounty all along, didn't you?

Hmph! I'm completely innocent!

I took pity on the noobs and gave them plenty of time to grind their own quests. It wasn't my fault they were too slow to claim the loot!