First Day of School, I Enrolled in My Own Building
I enrolled in a romance-fantasy academy. For the record, it was my building.
“Young master.”
The door of the black carriage opened, and Ines called out softly. I looked up at the spires rising beyond the main gate. White marble outer walls. Golden window frames. A central garden where roses bloomed regardless of season. A silver bell tower donated by the temple. And above it all, the proud signboard.
Roseria Imperial Academy.
The place where the empire’s most noble young people gathered. Where royalty studied, dukes socialized, saintess candidates prayed, and genius mages wrote theses. If this had been the romance-fantasy novel I read in my previous life, the female lead would have stepped down from her carriage right about now, and the male leads would have had their gazes stolen one by one. I would have been the one watching from the sidelines, marveling, ‘Wow, it really is a romance-fantasy academy.’
But my thoughts right now were a little different.
The exterior wall maintenance costs are going to hurt again.
Seventeen years since I was born into this world. I had memories from my previous life, but that hadn’t turned me into a swordsmanship genius or given me the ability to decipher magic formulas at a glance. Instead, I had inherited something rather unusual.
The academy grounds. The lecture halls. The dormitories. The ballroom. The magic practice wing. The swordsmanship training grounds. The library annex. The saintess-exclusive chapel. All of it belonged to the Bellcrown family.
To be precise, the imperial family believed they had purchased the land, but in reality it was under a long-term lease. The academy thought it was their own building, but on the registry it remained a trust asset of our family. Not many people knew that fact. The emperor, the finance minister, the academy chairman, the trust administration bureau, and the woman standing beside me.
Ines Lowell. Secretary of the Bellcrown family and my trust agent. With her neatly tied black hair and silver-rimmed glasses, she always divided people into three categories: contracting parties, contract violators, and contract violators who simply hadn’t realized they were violating the contract yet.
“Have you received your student ID?”
“I have.”
“Your identity?”
“Scholarship student from a fallen viscount family.”
“Owner identity?”
“Classified.”
“Very good.”
Ines pulled a thin leather folder from inside her coat.
“I will reconfirm the terms of the previous patriarch’s will. The heir shall enroll as a student for one year without revealing their status as owner and personally verify the actual operating conditions of the facilities. Upon discovering violations during enrollment, the heir may exercise the right to refuse contract renewal, revoke usage rights, order closure, or issue eviction notices.”
“I told you I memorized it.”
“Memorizing it and actually following it are two different things.”
Ines remained perfectly composed. “If you reveal your identity, management rights will immediately transfer to the imperial trust. In that case, young master, you would become a very unfortunate decorative ornament who owns this enormous building yet can do nothing with it.”
“Your wording is rather sharp.”
“Because if I speak gently, you don’t listen.”
I smiled and stepped down from the carriage. I had deliberately chosen plain clothes. A worn gray coat. A leather bag stained by years of use. No silver-tipped cane like the noble students carried, and no attendants. I looked exactly like a poor scholarship student.
Ines remained inside the carriage. If she followed me out, I would be exposed immediately. There was no reason for the official agent of the Bellcrown Trust Administration to be glued to the side of a scholarship student.
“Young master.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to endure it.”
Ines closed the folder as she spoke. “Simply endure as a student, and record everything as the owner.”
It was good advice. I nodded and walked toward the main gate.
The first day of school at Roseria Academy was dazzling. Carriage wheels rolled smoothly over marble paths, banners fluttered in the wind. Noble students laughed as they checked one another’s family crests. The air was thick with the scents of perfume, new leather gloves, and polished saddle oil.
Among all that, my shabby trunk stood out quite a bit.
“Who’s that?”
“Must be a scholarship student.”
“Has the academy become too lenient lately?”
Quiet laughter rippled through the crowd. It was fine. I had come here today to be looked down on. Or more accurately, to observe exactly who looked down on others and how they did it.
Students were dividing into lines in front of the gate. The imperial family and ducal heirs used the central pathway lined with red carpet. Those from count families and above took the left passage. Scholarship students and lower nobles were directed to the right passage.
The problem was that the right passage was essentially attached to the cargo entrance. Porters with carriage luggage, food carts, laundry boxes, and sacks of charcoal were all flowing through that side.
I paused for a moment.
The scholarship students’ path overlaps with the cargo route?
I already had excellent material on the very first day.
Just then, someone nudged my trunk with their foot.
“Move.”
When I looked up, a blonde female student was standing there. A white uniform embroidered with silver thread. Gloved hands. A blue gem brooch on her neck representing the Loengrin ducal family.
Clarissa Loengrin.
If this world truly followed romance-fantasy tropes, she would have been one of the main heroine candidates. The only daughter of a ducal house. The crown prince’s ball partner. Close friends with the saintess, and destined to receive a confession from the top mage of the tower. A perfectly polished noble lady.
And she had just kicked my trunk.
“Did you not hear me?” Clarissa frowned slightly. “This is the noble pathway.”
“I am also a student.”
“That’s what the academy decides. The pathways are decided by tradition.”
Small bursts of laughter came from those around us. One of the girls behind Clarissa covered her mouth with a fan.
“Scholarship students talk back these days?”
“If you’re poor, you should at least have some sense.”
I gripped the trunk handle again. If you asked whether I was angry, I’d say a little. If you asked whether I was hurt, not particularly. More precisely…
Private occupation of a public entrance. Discrimination based on student status. Mixing of cargo and student traffic routes. Potential safety regulation violations.
Clauses were stacking up neatly inside my head.
I looked at Clarissa and asked, “Then where should I enter?”
She smiled as if she had been waiting for that question. “There should be a door around the back. The one they use for bringing in supplies.”
“Is it acceptable for a student to use the cargo entrance?”
“It suits you, doesn’t it?”
The laughter grew a little louder. At that moment, I noticed a silver-haired girl behind Clarissa turning her gaze away. The saintess candidate, Serena Elt. Our eyes met, but she said nothing. Only a fleeting look of pity crossed her face before she turned her head.
Fine. Bystanders get recorded too.
I bowed politely. “Understood.”
A look of triumph flashed across Clarissa’s lips. She probably thought I had submitted. I pulled my trunk and walked toward the right-side cargo entrance. A worker carrying a sack of charcoal stepped aside in confusion, and the smell of laundry stung my nose.
My first day attending the academy began through the cargo entrance. Not bad. As evidence, it was quite clear.
Inside the narrow corridor past the cargo entrance, I saw an old maintenance call panel on the wall. It was a device ordinary students didn’t know about. A magical tool used by building caretakers to report facility issues to the trust administration bureau.
Instead of taking out my student ID, I pressed the small silver seal hidden inside my sleeve.
The Bellcrown Trust Seal.
[Owner Confirmed]
Soon after, Ines’s calm voice came through the magical device.
“Yes.”
“Confirming the student pathway at Gate 3. Directing scholarship students to the cargo entrance. Private occupation of noble pathways. Overlap between cargo and student traffic routes. Potential safety regulation violations.”
“The Loengrin duke’s daughter and her group. Saintess candidate Serena Elt as a bystander. Numerous surrounding students.”
There was a brief silence. I could hear the sound of Ines turning pages.
I looked toward the end of the corridor. Outside, noble students were still walking across the red carpet. Laughter, greetings, and family names sparkled like sunlight. All of it on my land.
“Lightly.”
“Close the central pathway at Gate 3. Reason: safety inspection due to inadequate separation of student and cargo routes. There is no clause in the contract regarding noble-exclusive pathways, so discontinue the practice immediately.”
“Students are allowed to be inconvenienced.”
I smiled. “But the building must be safe.”
The light on the call panel went out. I grabbed my trunk again and continued walking. The cargo entrance corridor was narrow and dark, but I knew the interior layout well. I had looked at the trust blueprints dozens of times as a child. Which walls hid maintenance passages, which stairs led to the main building, which doors were locked but effectively open. Because it was my building.
Ten minutes later, right before the opening ceremony began, a scream erupted from the direction of the main gate.
I stood at the second-floor railing of the main hall and looked down. Academy staff were rolling up the red carpet. A large sign had been placed at the central pathway of Gate 3.
[Temporary Closure for Safety Inspection]
[Please use the eastern general entrance for student access]
[Noble-exclusive passage suspended until separation of cargo and student routes is completed]
The faces of the noble students hardened. Someone shouted, “Does it make sense to block the noble-exclusive pathway?”
The staff member answered politely, “There is no such thing as a noble-exclusive pathway in the contract.”
“We’ve used this path every year!”
“Then it is possible that it has been a regulation violation every year.”
It was an excellent response. Ines must have written it.
Clarissa Loengrin stood in front of the sign. The elegant face she had worn earlier now showed cracks. The hem of her dress touched the dusty floor of the general passage instead of the red carpet. She looked around, then suddenly glanced up to the second floor.
Our eyes met.
I gave a light, student-like bow. Clarissa’s eyes narrowed.
She still didn’t know. Who the owner of the trunk she had kicked was. What kind of doors the student she had pushed aside could close. Whose name the corridors she walked, the dormitories where she slept, and the ballroom where she would dance were registered under.
She didn’t know.
And she must not know. Because if she did, she would behave herself.
I hadn’t come to see good manners. I had come to see true nature.
“New students, please proceed to the grand auditorium!”
A staff member’s voice echoed through the hall. I picked up my trunk again.
The first day at the academy had only just begun. There were still classes, dormitory assignments, and the welcome ball ahead. The saintess’s chapel, the magic wing’s practice rooms, the royalty-exclusive lounge, the student council’s budget ledgers. There was so much to check.
There would be plenty to endure as well. But that was fine. As a student, I could endure it. As the building owner, I simply had to record everything.