The Professor's Interest

I woke up early in the morning, preparing to head out for physical training, when a slip of paper fluttered down from my door.

To top it off, an event alert popped up alongside it. An automatic headache began pounding in my temples. When I unfolded the slip of paper, the pain only sharpened.

Bronze d'Estrada. The chivalrous thief professor, blessed with an exceptionally bountiful pocket of justice, had already noticed the little heist I pulled off yesterday.

"Wow. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, and I'm already caught?"

Considering how early in the dawn I had woken, it had barely been twelve hours. Did she already know the culprit's identity? The thought terrified me. I almost wanted to dig a hole in the sand and bury my head like an ostrich, but if I did that, the professor would probably glide up silently behind me and shovel dirt onto my head, cooing, "How thoughtful of you to get into the perfect position to be buried."

Or worse, some absurd misunderstanding would spiral out of control, and after a few hours of cowering, I'd end up sheepishly crawling out, tossing my clothes onto the laundry magic circle, and trudging off to take a shower.

I needed courage. To confirm whether my crime had truly been blown wide open, I headed straight to the professor's laboratory.

"Do you like cookies?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Yes!"

"What a pity."

Professor Bronze snapped off a bite of a tender cookie right in front of my face and devoured it entirely on her own. An urban legend often circulated among players claiming that one couldn't become a professor without discarding their humanity, and I felt the time had come to wholeheartedly endorse that hypothesis.

Stay calm.

It grated on my nerves, but if I grew emotionally agitated, I would easily let my true thoughts slip during casual questioning. To stifle the burning craving for sweets and swallow my indignation, I began chanting self-hypnosis under my breath.

That cookie is definitely loaded with fiery wasabi. Or it's a rancid vinegar biscuit. It tastes awful. Truly awful.

Out of nowhere, the professor spoke up again. "Do you like black tea?"

"...May I have some too?"

"I was merely asking out of politeness."

Rude woman. Watching her take a slow, delicate sip to cleanse her palate was infuriating. It made me appreciate all over again what an overwhelmingly generous soul Arcadia was for showering me with free tea and pastries.

"Are you enjoying academy life?"

"Very much so."

"Very much, is it?"

"Yes!"

"That is a relief," the professor murmured, setting her teacup down onto its saucer with a gentle clink. "Because before long, things will cease to be enjoyable."

"......"

Was this woman's personality always this twisted in the game? Since I had usually focused solely on her chest, I couldn't recall. I had always known I had a weakness for stunning beauties, but I never expected it to trip me up like this. I made a solemn mental note to reflect on my ways and evaluate people based on their temperaments rather than their faces and figures.

"I have three pieces of news for you," Professor Bronze said. Despite her unassuming name, she radiated an imposing, razor-sharp presence. "However, a thief must seize what they desire with their own two hands. Pay the appropriate information fee corresponding to the value of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each secret, and I shall share it with you."

"Are you asking for Points?"

"Trading equivalent information is an acceptable currency as well. Surely you possess at least one juicy rumor? Something valuable enough that, were you to share it, you could expect a handsome reward in return."

"Hmm... I do have some, but..."

"Come now, speak. Which do you desire?"

"There's nothing on that list I want to buy!"

"...Hooh." A flicker of genuine astonishment crossed her features. "You must know by now that Gift Academy is no ordinary institution. You should be curious about the true worth of artifacts, and if you hunger for strength, learning new techniques would surely tempt you."

Yet I wanted none of it? Her eyes narrowed slightly as if suspecting a lie, before she spoke in the coaxing tone one might use on a skittish animal. "If you fear receiving less than your due, put your mind at ease. I swear upon the honor of the empire's greatest chivalrous thief that I will neither swindle you nor undercut your price. This very offer is an act of sheer benevolence on my part."

Except I literally already know all three.

The weekly events rotated through a fixed, recycled roster; the culprit behind the plant club heist was sitting right in front of her; and the method for unlocking skill transmissions was simply clearing a professor's personal assignment.

Still, a kid who knew everything lost all their endearing charm. An uncompromising min-maxer had zero romantic flair. A true veteran knew how to play along and shamelessly take an inefficient route once in a while.

"I'm curious about the skill transmission."

"The price is simple. Showcase your capabilities before me. If you present a skill worthy of satisfying a chivalrous thief, I shall bestow a corresponding technique upon you."

It was the standard progression loop: once a player polished a low-tier skill to sufficient proficiency, an instructor would impart an advanced or related variation. While such tasks usually belonged to training ground drill sergeants, professors at Gift Academy were practically glorified master instructors anyway. Some focused on academic theory, others drilled practical combat doctrine, and the most pragmatic among them directly transmitted secret techniques.

A technique taught by the legendary chivalrous thief, Professor Bronze d'Estrada... Naturally, what I really coveted was that magnificent bust, but having my own chest grow was, well... I felt a profound psychological resistance. Even as a guy currently trapped in this form, I had a past as a child, but I certainly never had a past as a woman.

"May I borrow an empty cup?"

"If you wish."

"One more, please."

The professor nodded, sliding a second cup across the polished table.

"Just one more!"

"Ask for one more, and I shall collect your tears as payment." Professor Bronze flicked her finger through the empty air. A sharp, terrifying crack echoed out, violent enough to convince me that if that flick grazed my skull, my head would cave in on the spot.

"Three is plenty!"

Perhaps owing to a fascination with eastern ceramics, the three cups each bore distinct, intricate patterns fired into the glaze.

"Place a coin beneath one cup, and then shuffle the other two. I'll turn around and keep my eyes completely shut."

"A shell game? Against a master thief?"

"What do you think? Doesn't it sound fun?"

"You intend to guess without even looking. Are you certain you can manage that?"

"Heheh. Just because I turn my back doesn't mean I can't see, does it?"

Faced with my cheeky provocation, the professor reached into her vest and produced a glimmering token. "This is a 777th Anniversary Commemorative Coin, minted in the year 777 of the Central Holy Empire. Only 777 copies were ever struck, and it is widely whispered to beckon miraculous good fortune."

"Whoa! That's incredible!"

"If you truly guess correctly, I shall give this coin to you."

"Really?"

This wasn't an item one could simply acquire on demand. Anything tied to the Luck stat was exceptionally rare, almost always requiring absurdly high natural fortune just to encounter in the drop tables.

I have to have this, no matter what!

Excited, I spun around to face the wall. Behind me, the professor's voice drifted calmly through the air. "Then we begin."

"Okaaay~"

A crisp clink rang out as she brought a cup down over the coin. Immediately following came the smooth scrape of two ceramic bases sliding across the wood as she rearranged the empty pair.

"It is finished."

"Hmm~ I wonder where it could be~?" I asked playfully, feigning contemplation. In truth, I already knew the answer. My ears had caught every single vibration.

"You hid it right here, didn't you?" I pointed without hesitation.

The professor offered a pleased, feline smile. "Remarkably well done."

"Heheh. Coin, please!"

"Of course. Answer correctly twice more, and the coin is yours."

"Whaaat? Where did that rule come from?!"

"Right over there."

She pointed toward the edge of the mahogany desk, where glowing script hovered faintly in the air:

"It was present from the very beginning. Did you fail to notice it?"

"Ugh... You aren't going to claim it's a best-of-seven match once I get three right, are you?"

"I would not torment you to such an extent."

"Fine. Round two, then!"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instant I turned my back, the professor spoke. "Done."

"Huh?"

I hadn't heard a single thing. No scraping of porcelain, no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠metallic clatter of the coin against ceramic, no movement of the two empty cups—total, absolute silence. The entire sequence had unfolded in a fraction of an instant, completely devoid of sound.

This sneaky professor! She used Haste and Silence together!

I spun back around, pouting my lips in open grievance. The professor merely let out a dry, amused chuckle.

"Go ahead and guess. If you can manage it under these conditions."

"Hmph. Did you really hate watching a student show off that much?"

"If you were relying entirely on crude acoustic cues to track the coin's position, I must admit I would feel somewhat disappointed."

To take a child's game so dead seriously! Even so, I refused to beg for leniency. My veteran gamer ego would never permit me to whine, "I'm just a kid, go easy on me!" in the middle of a challenge. Besides, hearing was hardly the only sense capable of tracking a shell game.

"It's this one, isn't it?"

"...You truly are extraordinary."

It was an elementary trick. The cup concealing the coin stayed in its original position, while the other two underwent a single shuffle. If one memorized the unique painted motifs on each cup, it was child's play to deduce which one remained untouched and which two traded places.

For example, if Cup 1 hid the coin, Cups 2 and 3 would swap, leaving Cup 1's motif right where it started. If the coin rested beneath Cup 2 or 3, Cup 1 would swap with one of the others, shifting its motif to a different slot entirely. Confirming that all three cups had distinct surface illustrations was the very first check I made the moment she handed them to me!

The smile playing on her lips widened significantly. "Next time, you will need to learn how to conceal your gaze."

"...Don't tell me you noticed?"

"Heh. Turn back around. We must conduct our final round, must we not?"

Desperately praying she wouldn't pull another cheap stunt, I turned around. But once again, almost instantaneously, her voice drifted from behind: "Finished."

When I looked, my jaw dropped. Resting atop the three original cups were three vastly larger ceramic mugs, nesting completely over them like Russian matryoshka dolls.

"Now then, seek it out. Under which cup do you believe the coin-bearing vessel resides?"

This ruthless woman... In that infinitesimal blink of an eye, she had seamlessly chained Silence, Haste, and Nesting all at once.

"Surely you aren't going to complain that covering a cup with another cup violates the rules? We never established any prohibition against it, after all."

Was this the vile, underhanded doctrine of a master thief? To bring her full, lethal mastery to bear against a nine-year-old child's cute little parlor trick... I shuddered down to my very core at the terrifying, shameless malice of an academy professor.