The Hero is Terrifying Even to the Hero

When I saw Isabel and Edith, the princesses, I crumpled the stack of papers I had prepared.

Recalling the title 'Ways to Teach Engagingly: 100 Ideas' from the best-seller corner of a bookstore in my previous life, the secret I had restructured to my liking last night. Ice-breaking order, voice tone adjustment, how to keep students awake—all of it.

Isabel was a freshman, and we shared the common ground of being from Leon Kingdom, so I figured she might attend my lecture.

But Edith was different. She wasn't even a freshman; she was the vice president of the student council. Why would she come to a new professor's first class? The face that had been probing me relentlessly about the war story a moment ago crossed my mind. Could it be that curiosity that brought her here?

My back grew damp. The shirt clung to my back and didn't come off. I pretended to be calm, lowering my gaze to the lesson plan. I flipped through one page. The words didn't enter my eyes. My fingers only rubbed the corners of the paper.

Still, I had to do what I had to do.

Standing at the podium, I greeted them. Applause erupted from the front row. Isabel clapped first, and Edith followed a beat later.

"I'm Arthur, the professor in charge of Combat Theory."

My voice almost cracked. I gathered strength in my chest and spat out one more sentence.

"I know that some of you who applied for Professor Logan's class are here as well."

I slowly swept my gaze across the lecture hall. The number of nodding heads was fewer than expected. Rather, there were more who were staring at me fixedly. How many students ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually applied for my lecture directly?

Three male students with arms crossed caught my eye. The one on the left frowned, the one on the right only lifted the corner of his mouth. The person sitting in the middle looked familiar. Arrogant face, plump body—the prince of the Basil Kingdom.

The guy who had fled in fear back then was now glaring at me with a vicious face. He said the academy side would file a complaint, but he seems to have endured without expulsion. Is the empire more lenient than I thought, or is the Basil royal family's lobby thicker?

"Professor Logan has been dismissed for causing an incident. If you want to take another class, please submit a change request."

This wasn't just for the Basil prince's group. The sheer number of students sitting in the lecture hall right now was something I couldn't handle. Please, please, run away to other wonderful professors.

Silence.

No one moved. The Basil prince even propped his chin on his hand and lowered his posture. It seemed he had no intention of changing classes.

"Since today is the first day, I'll proceed briefly."

Actually, it was a lie. The scenario I had prepared assuming three times the expected number of students had all gone to waste. A small class where students sit in circles and chat was not permitted by the size of the classroom from the start.

"In this lecture, you will learn how to defeat your opponent."

There were students nodding their heads. The reaction wasn't bad.

"There's an old saying: 'If you know your enemy and know yourself, you will not be defeated even in a hundred battles.'"

It was something I had picked up in my previous life. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I didn't remember the source, and I didn't know if it was correct. Still, it was good enough to start with.

"The important thing here is not just to know the enemy, but to know 'me' as well."

I walked around the lecture hall once and distributed one sheet of paper to each student. It was fortunate that I had prepared extra. It barely matched the number of students.

"On the paper, please write what weapon you use and up to what level you want to reach."

A small sigh came from the very back. One of the Basil prince's group. Still, he took the paper.

"Today's class ends with submitting that. Students who are done can submit and leave early."

The moment the words ended, pens moved everywhere. Students writing long sentences, ending in three lines. Some were glancing at each other's papers to check their speed.

The Basil prince and two of his companions stood up first. As they passed the podium, they threw their papers. Three fluttering papers fell. I quietly bent my waist and gathered the three papers. The corners of the paper were torn. I sighed inwardly. I wonder how students like this ended up gathered together.

After that, several students submitted and left the lecture hall. Most handed over the papers silently and left. Then, one male student handed over the papers with both hands politely.

Somehow, the male student was small in build and had a faint presence. It gave the impression of a sickly pretty boy. His purple-tipped hair was long for a boy, so if it weren't for the school uniform, he might have been mistaken for a female student. Adding a bit of exaggeration, his wrists were only as thick as two of my fingers. If he held a sword, it seemed he would be the one being swung at rather than swinging.

I smiled faintly inside.

It's good to have such polite students to teach.

I unfolded the submitted paper.

It was short. Still, all the required content was written. The impressions from the pen writing had soaked through to the back of the paper. Especially the last line, the ink had spread as if written multiple times. Defeat Father. Without even looking, it was clear how much force went into writing the letters.

Recalling the build of the male student who had left just now, I shook my head. A sword with that body? Unless it's a rapier-level light sword, it would be better to train the body or change the sword.

But, defeat Father, huh. He can't be a heretic, right? It's an incompatible goal with his polite attitude.

To check submissions, I unfolded the attendance book and compared names. My eyes stopped. Next to 'Cael' was red text attached.

I blinked. I brought the paper close to my face and read it again. The shape of the red ink was exactly the same. Someone must have written it as a prank. Why such a boring joke.

But the red text written by hand on the attendance book couldn't be erased.

"Professor Arthur... not Professor! Is that person who just left him?"

Isabel approached and stood in front of the podium. As she submitted the paper, she slightly lowered her waist. Her lowered voice tickled my ears.

"The son of the Hero! Just as the rumor said, he's handsome and I recognized him right away."

Isabel's eyes sparkled. Her paper was neatly folded. I alternated between her face and the paper.

Please, say it's a joke.

"I heard that I'll be entering the same grade as you. I didn't know we'd be in the same class."

Her voice was cheerful. The sound of her shoe heels touching the floor was light. In contrast, my shoulders grew heavy with a confirmation shot.

It wasn't a problem whether Cael would defeat the Hero or not. The fact that the son of the Hero was attending my lecture itself was a burden. If I lost in a real class to him, I wouldn't have the face to lift my head. Conversely, if he got injured in my class? That would be an even bigger problem. It seemed like the Hero would break down the door to my dorm and come looking for me in nightmares.

My back grew sticky again.

After class, I headed to the staff cafeteria. The smell of grilling beef pricked my nose, but my appetite was gone. I only put a steak and two potatoes on the tray.

I took a corner seat. I stabbed the meat with my fork. The brown juice spread on the plate, but my mind was only about the son of the Hero.

"Professor Arthur, is it okay to sit?"

Bella, holding the tray, sat opposite me. She had slumped shoulders today. The robe collar was tilted to one side, but she seemed unaware of it.

It was completely different from her mischievous look yesterday. It wasn't just me who was having a hard time with the class.

"Hello, Professor Bella."

"How was your first class? I think I totally failed it."

Bella stabbed the salad with her fork. Even after stabbing, she didn't bring it to her mouth. Instead of eating, she vented her complaints.

"When I entered the class, I saw that one student's mana was particularly well-organized, so to show the skill difference, I slightly interfered with that student's mana."

Bella trailed off and sighed. The lettuce on the fork drooped.

"It seemed to have hurt the student's pride. Right after class ended, she came up and declared war. She said she'll surpass my level by the end of the year. Turns out she's the successor to the Tower Master. At that age, she's at the end of the 6th circle."

She kept stabbing the salad like me just now. The sound of the fork scraping the bottom of the plate came out.

The successor to the Tower Master. Bella seems to have taken on a problem child comparable to the son of the Hero.

"Frankly, I think that student will reach the 7th circle by the end of the year and reach the same level as me. If a student catches up to me in level, how am I supposed to teach students from now on? It's embarrassing."

There was no laughter in her voice. I felt like a pretty bad person. The fact that I wasn't the only one who received a bomb started to make my mouth water.

I chewed a piece of meat. It went down smoothly. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠juice lingered on my tongue. As expected of the Empire Academy. Good meat.

"I heard there's a son of the Hero in my class. His goal is to defeat his father."

"The son of the Hero is there? Then he's going to defeat his father, right?"

Bella lifted her head. She looked at me for a moment, then burst into laughter. Her shoulders shook. Since she also has a colleague in the same situation, her heart seemed a bit lighter.

"I heard that the Saint has entered the Holy Department. Right after I was appointed to the academy, there'll be a lot to do."

She swallowed a smile and picked up the water glass. The light reflected off the glass and sparkled.

"Seems like we'll be suffering together. Shall we toast as comrades?"

I raised the glass and lightly clinked it. The water inside the glass sloshed once. Bella smiled wickedly and tilted the glass.

Among this year's freshmen, there are only three big bombs. The successor to the Tower Master, the son of the Hero, and the Saint.

To spend three years without mistakes at the academy, I need to keep my mind straight. Preferably, I hope none of the bombs in my class explode.

Bella set the empty glass down and stood up from her seat.

"I should write a letter to the Tower Master later. My son declared war on me."

Her expression was unreadable whether it was a joke or a serious remark. I put the remaining potato in my mouth. The cold potato crumbled.

By the way, what training should I give the son of the Hero from tomorrow.

The problem wasn't Cael, but his father. If the son gets cut by a sword in my class, I'm done as a war hero and everything. My neck was cold the whole way back to the staff quarters.

When I returned to the room, the Combat Theory attendance book placed on the desk caught my eye.

The name 'Cael' written on the first line, and the red text attached next to it.

It looked like a tail that would follow me for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the next three years.