Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: 29. Midterms
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Midterms.
An unavoidable ordeal in the academy's little society, a critical milestone that decided the first-years' grades.
Of course, practical exam scores held absolute weight in evaluating skill.
But that didn't mean one could neglect the written exam.
At least not for those in S-Class.
They had a duty to maintain top marks even in pen-pushing subjects.
No matter how overwhelming their martial prowess.
"...Thus, knighthood is the unyielding will to protect the weak and uphold justice itself."
"Ah, this'll be on the test—memorize it."
Up front at the classroom podium.
A hulking brute with a fierce, bandit-chief scowl—enough to fool any stranger.
Was tapping the blackboard chalk in hand, clutching a dainty textbook.
The man who'd normally be kicking up dust in the training grounds, bellowing "Nothing beats learning with your body!"
Now meekly lecturing theory at the board.
It felt as jarring as a gorilla donning spectacles for a read.
Given his usual disdain—bordering on loathing—for theory in favor of pure practice.
No one but Evan had expected him to skip written prep entirely.
Thankfully, he had some baseline sense.
With exams looming, he'd crammed the indoor classroom board full of notes instead of drilling in the yard.
"...Class after all. Good."
"You thought so too, Celine? I worried he'd skip theory altogether."
The two women flanking me leaned in, whispering.
Hard to dismiss as silly when the man was Zig Kail.
He might actually pull some stunt on exam day like "Written tests? Real combat's the only answer!"
Luckily, some shred of professorial conscience—or academy rules—kept him progressing.
Though the thick irritation radiating from his back was unmistakable.
Thud. Thud-thud. Crack!
"...Damn it. Underline this—it's important."
He snapped the chalk in frustration, rapping the board irritably.
A tense hush gripped the room.
Even the notoriously oblivious Barcan shut his trap; Kaien quietly scribbled.
Enough said.
Instinct screamed: prod that powder keg now, and midterms be damned—you'd regret it.
'Atmosphere's brutal.'
I propped my chin, slouching toward the board.
In-game, a few clicks skipped written prep.
Now? A grueling battle against drowsiness.
Though reality diverged from the game.
I wasn't carefree about the written part either.
Small mercy: as a product of Korea's cutthroat entrance wars, this memorization stuff was child's play.
Plus, Zig Kail's lessons were shallow—painfully so.
Basically reciting a morality textbook: live right, honor your bonds.
Nothing substantial to cram.
Exaggerating a tad.
Ten minutes' focus, then straight to the exam room for full marks?
"..."
'Might as well nap.'
No value in forcing wakefulness.
I crossed my arms, prepping to bury my head. Eyes drifting shut.
Clap!
"...Hah!"
A cannon-shot clap jolted my eyes wide.
I jerked up, startled.
Zig Kail grinned at his scrawled board triumphantly.
"Theory's covered. Memorize what I said—no worries."
The professor dusted his chalk, beaming relief: Finally ditched the hassle.
"Done with that tedious crap. Onto the main event."
He looked ready to bolt.
But instead of grabbing his book, he cleared his throat, rousing the mood.
Something crucial left to say?
I watched.
"As you know, practicals hit a week after writtens."
"Ooh!"
"Field training" flipped the room's vibe instantly.
Even the half-asleep perked up, eyes sparkling.
I straightened, ears perked.
This could matter.
"So, Master! What's the practical?"
Barcan—head formerly glued to his desk—leaned forward eagerly.
He'd have asked anyway; curiosity burned in everyone.
First midterms, first practicals.
Zig Kail shook his head with a cryptic smile at Barcan's intense stare.
"Nobody knows the format. Not even me."
"...You're messing with us, right, Master?"
Barcan gawked, incredulous.
The prof not knowing?
No joke—he'd never suspect that answer.
"Wh-what? Why...?"
Hye-ra timidly raised a hand.
He shrugged.
"Nothing's set."
"...Nothing's set?"
"Exactly. Survival on a deserted island? Dungeon dive? Bandit hunt?"
"Pure random."
Silence blanketed the room.
Random meant zero prep guidance.
Worst case: hurled into the unknown unprepared.
'...Insane school, reminded anew.'
I tsked inwardly.
Zero regard for student safety. Reckless to the core.
That half-baked setup too.
Explains why it's a game, I guess.
"Eh, we'll notify beforehand regardless. Don't sweat it."
"Now, time to split into teams."
He rummaged his pocket, fishing out a crumpled sheet.
Coffee stains, grease smudges—who knows where it'd rolled.
This decided S-Class fates?
I stared blankly.
"Oh, by the way—I picked teams myself."
"...Pardon?"
"What?"
"...?"
Why unilaterally...?
Midterms, at least poll opinions?
Let friends team up?
Am I alone here?
I glanced around.
Everyone else gaped too, dumbfounded.
"Got beef? Step up for a one-on-one. One minute. Fists only."
Crunch.
He gripped the desk like it might shatter, grinning ferociously.
Complaints? Swallow 'em.
I hadn't expected democracy anyway.
His vibe screamed: gripes ignored.
Rotten prof.
"Calling teams. No repeats—ears open."
I deflated, head down.
Teammates? Whatever.
'It'll work out.'
Nap time.
Eyes shut, the women beside me—Celine and Elisia—muttered.
"With brother..."
"...Hope we're teamed."
I ignored their wistful whispers, clearing my mind.
Wishes never came true anyway.
Better not to hope.
Sleep tugged as the prof's roll-call droned like a lullaby.
Consciousness sank.
"...Team 1... whoa!"
"...Eek!"
"Team 3..."
Fading awareness.
Should know my team, right?
'...Someone'll tell me.'
Worst case, ask Lin, Elisia, or Kaien.
Commotion dulled; darkness claimed me.
+ + +
"...Time to wake?"
A sweet voice tickled my ear.
I cracked my eyes.
Class over; podium empty.
Students packed busily.
"...Mm."
Forcing lids up, a face filled my blurry view.
Twinkling gold hair, emerald eyes.
And desk-topping curves stealing the show.
"...Elisia?"
My voice came out dopey.
She propped her chin right before me, beaming down.
"Sleep well? Drooling like a baby."
"...Wasn't drooling."
I wiped my mouth hastily—dry.
"...Hehe."
Fooled. I coughed, sitting up.
Since when so playful?
Getting cheekier lately.
"Class done?"
"Yep. Prof bolted the second teams dropped."
Fits—no chitchat from him.
"Where's Lin?"
"Said she had stuff with Ms. Riel, stepped out."
I rolled my stiff neck, scanning.
Room buzzed with packing students.
Oh, right—teams?
"Teams?"
"Oh? Curious?"
Elisia teased, gauging me.
Her mischief-sparkled eyes spelled trouble.
"Curious enough to pass out. Spill."
She pressed a finger to smiling lips.
"Boooring if direct. Hint!"
One finger up.
"First: a super attractive woman!"
"...Woman?"
Her ears twitched perkily at my echo.
Perfectly mirroring her glee.
"Yep. Super attractive and adorable."
Hm.
I stroked my chin, pretending thought.
Lame hint, honestly.
"...Rosalyn?"
"...Nope."
I tossed the furthest wrong guess.
Her cheeks puffed in pouty fury.
Adorably so—I stifled a laugh, staying serious.
"Mean."
Playful glare, then nose-to-nose lean-in.
Sweet floral scent dizzied me.
"Then... Iris?"
"...Evan. You're punishing me for earlier, right?"
Whoops.
Push further, even Elisia might sulk for real.
I wryly surrendered.
"Kidding. Who else but you?"
"...Too mean."
Ears drooped; she whipped away.
I sighed inwardly, relieved.
Crisis averted.
"Looking forward to teaming in practicals."
"...Me too, Evan!"