Denebergen's Seven Great Mysteries (1)
“The best room in the dorm, please!”
In the bright midday sun, three freshmen with faces that were unfamiliar yet still boyish strode boldly into the dormitory. The upperclassmen, knowing today was freshman arrival day, smiled indulgently at the confident kids and moved on. But some of the lowerclassmen stared in shock.
By the time one reached upperclassman status, the terrifying trials they'd passed as freshmen had faded from memory. Yet the students who had just entered their second year, meeting their first juniors, remembered their own freshman days all too clearly.
“Already at this hour...?”
“Those kids are definitely getting first place.”
“Not just first—did they start the trials earlier this year than last? Otherwise, how...”
The second-years whispered in awe at how these kids had arrived so early. I wondered what faces they'd make if I told them I'd woken up first and waited ages for Charlotte and Yozef before coming. But humility is a virtue, and no matter how mature my mind might be, here at school, they were the seniors. I decided to slip quietly to my room without drawing too much attention.
“Heh heh, freshmen, are you? Allow me to assist with your check-in.”
With the dorm manager's help, Charlotte, Yozef, and I each received keys to single-occupancy rooms. Denebergen Academy's dorms came in four types: single rooms, doubles, luxury quad suites, and standard quads. We'd snagged the best ones—top facilities, no roommates, perfect for solo living.
“Ugh... is it really okay for me to stay in a single? Even at the Lehinar estate, I shared with the other maids...”
“Hahaha! Why the fear? You earned this fair and square by conquering the trial. Enjoy it to the fullest!”
It wasn't first-come-first-served for the best rooms; instead, the earliest arrivals got first pick. Charlotte had panicked and nearly chosen a roommate room, but I'd stopped her. Our parents covered tuition anyway, and the price gap between singles and quads wasn't huge. If you're studying, why not sleep well too?
“Mm! Then I'll head to my room and unpack. If you're both free, how about dinner together tonight?”
“I'm good. Charlotte?”
“Y-yes! I'd love to—I’ll definitely be there!”
Something in her eyes suggested she thought it meant serving us at dinner rather than eating together, but I let it slide for now.
“See you at dinner, then.”
The men's and women's buildings had separate paths, so we parted from Charlotte. I soon bid Yozef farewell too and entered my empty single room. I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Yustina...
After hearing the rumor from Luisa, I'd dug into everything about Denebergen Academy. Officially, it was represented by the legendary grand archmage principal, my grandfather. But the chairman? Shrouded in mystery, rarely seen in public. Even when she appeared at formal events, she avoided interviews or speeches, vanishing right after.
I closed my eyes, reviewing what I'd learned.
[Denebergen Family]
Respected marquesses, but despite over 300 years of lineage, they rarely attend social events, so their central political profile is low.
Strikingly, women have always served as chairwomen, running the academy—but little else is known.
And as Luisa had said, whenever the chairwoman appeared publicly, people often remarked how much she resembled my mother. Not daughter-like, but identical—enough to spark wild theories. I could imagine it well enough. Genetics are powerful, but a child carries half the father's blood too; perfectly mirroring just the mother across generations was unlikely.
I'll see for myself and judge.
Having endured the trial myself, I decided against baseless assumptions. Whatever the truth, it wouldn't reveal itself until I saw it with my own eyes. As a mere freshman, meeting the chairman might be impossible anyway. Even if I did, it might not change a thing dramatically.
“Up we go.”
I rose from the bed, unpacked my things, and sorted my thoughts.
For now, focus on school life, whatever else.
I couldn't cling to past-life memories forever. I had a new blood family now, and as a Lehinar, responsibilities came with it. Unlike my old assassin days, where I had nothing to lose and charged ahead recklessly.
Knock knock knock!
As I tidied up, the sun dipped low. My stomach growled—dinner time soon. Right on cue, someone knocked.
Creeeak—
“Hahaha! Good to see your face again!”
“I-it's been less than six hours...”
“What does that matter? Come on, to the cafeteria! Dinner started exactly five minutes ago!”
I chuckled helplessly and followed Yozef. Charlotte was joining us, so I'd kept watching the path from the women's dorm lobby. But she hadn't appeared.
Yozef rubbed his growling stomach and tilted his head. “She said she'd be here by now... something wrong?”
“Yeah, Charlotte's not one to break promises...”
Timid, sure, but dutiful as a maid. If friends said 6 p.m., she'd be waiting from 5:30. This delay felt off—something was wrong.
“Speak of the devil—she's coming now.”
There she was, trudging from afar. But something about her looked strange. Normally, she'd rush over apologizing profusely, accidentally drawing stares from guys nearby. Now, she seemed too drained even for that.
“Y-young master...”
“What happened?”
She hesitated, then bowed her head deeply. Out of nowhere, she apologized to me and Yozef.
“I can't join you for dinner. I'm so sorry...”
“What is it? Do I need to order you to answer?”
I frowned, and she flinched like a startled kitten, shrinking back. Under our stares—Yozef tilting his head too—she confessed in a tiny voice.
“It's... the seniors called me...”
“Seniors?”
I caught the oddity instantly. Assassins hone sharp instincts. Reading micro-expressions, sensing vibes—easy for me. Charlotte was in over her head.
“You wouldn't have prior friends here as a freshman, and six hours isn't enough to get that close.”
“...”
“Even if you did, you wouldn't ditch me to giggle over dinner with them. So... it's that, right?”
Hazing. Bullies crushing a freshman's spirit. Even at the empire's top academy, it was still just kids.
I pinched my brow and sighed deeply. “...Sorry for worrying you, young master.”
Charlotte was on the verge of tears now, guilt-stricken. Yozef, oblivious, kept glancing between us curiously. I pointed at the clock to redirect him.
“Sorry, Yozef—how much time until dinner closes?”
“Hm? About an hour.”
“An hour... right.”
I blinked, nodded. “Back in 30. Okay if we eat a bit late?”
“Hm? Hahaha! No issue! Looks like trouble—I'll wait the 30, no fuss!”
“Thanks. I'll go with Charlotte quick.”
As I followed her, Yustina crossed my mind.
Might not be you, but if you are Denebergen's chairman... you owe me one.
I'll handle what you couldn't—like tying that missed dress string at your back.
Deep in the dorm's dimly lit basement corridor, an eerie chill hung in the air. An old-eyed man—no mere student—leaned against the wall.
“About time.”
Humpton, a third-year commoner student, licked his lips at the gathering freshmen. Behind him lurked second-years with sour faces—all commoners too. Low-born, poor grades, scraping by in standard quads, barely avoiding flunking.
This was their commoner cartel, nicknamed the “gang.”
“All here?”
“Not sure... numbers seem a bit high...”
Simple reason for summoning them: To upperclassmen and peers, the gang was pathetic losers. But to wide-eyed freshmen? Godlike seniors. Just one or two years older, but school days make that gap feel vast.
“Ahem, if everyone's here, shall we start?”
Humpton smirked slyly. Only at term's start could they wield senior authority. He'd bully fellow commoner freshmen like toys—couldn't touch nobles, but plebs were fair game. Boost egos, vent stress—one stone, two birds.
Teaching respect for elders, keeping discipline.
They even fancied themselves helping freshmen adjust. No shame whatsoever—despite failing to adjust themselves.
Among the crowd, Humpton eyed Charlotte most.
That girl's the top commoner trial passer, right?
His gaze swept her pretty face, lingered on her ample chest. Best toys are premium ones. He grinned, fantasizing briefly—then shifted to another spot.
Ironic: Not a prettier girl, but a boy.
“When do we start~ seniors~?”
“Shut it, punk!”
“Yessir~!”
That subtly infuriating tone. And a pretty-boy face like the noble brats Humpton despised. No commoner vibe at all—made him suspect his underlings had grabbed a noble by mistake.
Who dragged that one in?
Humpton glared at Deneb, grinning creepily beside Charlotte. Even top plebs—no excuse. He'd chew out whoever brought him later.